


Life As We Know It

by sycophanticramblings



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3593073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sycophanticramblings/pseuds/sycophanticramblings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is life as we know it. And it's pain, and it's loss, and it sucks. But it's also full of tiny wonders, like this little one, with her chubby cheeks and dark brown eyes, and, god, is it worth it."</p><p>Or, when tragedy strikes and they are left to care for Octavia and Lincoln's infant daughter, Clarke and Bellamy have no choice but to try and come to an understanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**CLARKE**

Loose blonde tendrils framed Clarke's pale face. She tucked them behind her ears, turning her chin to both sides to observe herself the mirror. When she was satisfied with her appearance, she scrunched up her nose, making a face at her reflection. Why she had agreed to this in the first place, she had no idea. Clarke was busy. Between trying to fit in as much time as possible with her friends before they all graduated and dispersed off to real life, studying for midterms, and waiting to hear back from medical schools, she didn't have time to date. More importantly, she didn't have time to date _him_.

Clarke had only met her best friend's brother a handful of times. First, when he dropped Octavia off at their freshman dorm, where their introductions were perfunctory and polite. Then not again until the beginning of her junior year, when he surprised Octavia to announce his acceptance into the police academy. Clarke rolled her eyes at the memory of Bellamy walking in on far more than he bargained for; his sister and her much older anthropology TA, making out on the couch.

Clarke and Bellamy argued that day while Octavia walked Lincoln out. Bellamy disapproved of his little sister's relationship, and something about that disapproval irked Clarke. She knew a little bit about the siblings' relationship, that Bellamy basically raised Octavia. She understood the protective older brother bit, really. It would have been almost endearing. But then Bellamy seemed to think it was her fault, that Clarke should've stopped the relationship from happening, should've talked sense into Octavia. That set the blonde off. In no uncertain terms did she tell Bellamy that Octavia was an adult, capable of making her own choices, and - for the love of god - Lincoln was a good guy.

"How old is he, anyways?" Bellamy had asked Clarke, in a huff but also clearly nervous to hear the answer.

"Twenty seven," she answered evenly.

"Octavia is nineteen. Nineteen. Hell, I'm only twenty five," Bellamy said, more to himself, burying his face in his hands. He looked up at Clarke, then. "Why the fuck is he even a TA?"

Clarke rolled her eyes. "He took a few years off after undergrad to live on a Native American reservation," she said, not offering any more explanation.

She had heard the stories of his time on the reservation and how it lead him to his eventual thesis topic, how ancient Native American healing rituals evolved and prevailed in modern times. He was smart, and capable, and generously agreed to help his professor - Indra - TA her undergraduate lecture class. Lincoln said it was the best decision he'd ever made; he really liked Octavia. Clarke approved wholeheartedly. "They didn't start dating until after the class ended," she told Bellamy, but by the look on his face, it was clear that didn't make much of a difference.

She hadn't seen Bellamy since then, but the thought of him was still accompanied by general feelings of annoyance. According to Octavia, he finally began warming up to her boyfriend.

The three roommates were sprawled out on their balcony, wine glasses in hand. "Bell is a complete history nerd," Tav told her and Raven, "once the two of them started talking Native American mythologies, he was sold."

And Clarke was glad for Octavia. She was her best friend, and she knew how close she was with her brother, and how important it was for her brother and her boyfriend to get along. That didn't mean she had to suddenly change her tune about the man.

But Octavia nearly begged. "Come on, Clarke, that was nearly two years ago. He warmed up to Lincoln, and I know you'll warm up to him. Now he knows I'm staying here for the foreseeable future, he got a job with the PD here and the only people he knows are me, his partner on the force, and his old high school friend who lives here who he just moved in with. He needs to get to know more people."

Octavia had received her acceptance to graduate school two months earlier. She would be doing the same program Lincoln had finished the year before. That's all she wanted since Indra's class, and the first thing she did was fill out a request for Indra to be her mentor. Everyone was very excited for her. Clarke was unsurprised when she found out Bellamy was moving to the city, he had no ties back in Michigan, and if this was where Octavia was going to eventually settle down with Lincoln, he'd want to be close.

In fact, more than likely, their entire group of friends was going to remain in Boston after graduation. Clarke was absolutely thrilled. She knew things would still be different, of course, with people moving to separate parts of the city and everyone's schedules changing to accommodate jobs or graduate school or, in her case, medical school. She was still waiting on her letter from Harvard, but she had a good feeling about it. Jasper had taken to jokingly calling her a traitor, going from Boston College to Harvard, despite her insistence that nothing was set in stone yet, not without the letter.

"Fine, I'll give him another chance," Clarke conceded, "I just don't understand why it can't be in some sort of group setting, as friends. That would be most effective for getting him to know more people!"

Much to Clarke's chagrin, Octavia wouldn't budge on the date factor. She took a gulp of her wine. "Because neither of you has dated in far too long-,"

Memories of Finn prickled in Clarke's mind. She met Raven's eyes, and knew the brunette was thinking the same thing. But then, to Raven's credit, she smirked and winked at Clarke. Raven could have easily thought of Clarke as the unbeknownst home-wrecker who ruined her life, but instead she chose to befriend her. How Raven was able to maintain a friendship with Finn, as well, remained a mystery to Clarke. But she recognized that the two of them had a much more complicated relationship, and as long as Clarke subtly avoided situations that might result in the three of them being alone together, things were good. Clarke felt a rush of gratitude, and tipped her wine glass in Raven's direction.

Octavia was oblivious to the moment shared between the two girls. "- and because you know I've always wanted a sister. Lincoln doesn't have any, so it's my mission to make sure Bell marries someone I approve of. And who would I approve of more than my very best friend?"

"So, does that mean Lincoln is, like, _it_ for you?" Raven asked.

Thanks to Raven, the rest of the night passed without another mention of Bellamy. Until Clarke and Octavia were standing at the sink, rinsing their glasses out. "So, I'll tell him to pick you up Friday at eight, ok?"

Clarke sighed. "I must really love you."

Tavia squealed in excitement, whipping out of her phone to - presumably - text her brother.Clarke wondered idly how she got Bellamy to agree to this. It wasn't like he was particularly fond of her, either. She was vaguely afraid to ask, though, so she kept her mouth shut.

"You have to admit, C, we would be kick-ass sister-in-laws."

Clarke just rolled her eyes.

Three days later, here she was, home alone and waiting for Bellamy to pick her up. Octavia and Raven not so inconspicuously made themselves sparse after helping her choose an outfit. Octavia said she was already planing on staying the night at Lincoln's, while Raven mumbled "video game tournament" and something that sounded like Finn's name and Clarke didn't want to hear any more explanation. They both told her to have a good time with exaggerated eyebrow wiggles and she grudgingly laughed as she slammed the door in their faces.

Pulling the hair back out from behind her ears and mussing it up at the roots a bit, Clarke pondered why she was so fidgety. She attributed it to the fact that this was the first date she'd been on in a long time, and the first time she would see her best friend's brother in even longer.

She was suddenly struck with what a terrible idea this was. What if it went horribly and she was stuck with a new member of their large friend group who couldn't stand to be around her? Or, worse, what if it went great, they dated for awhile, and then broke up terribly? Octavia would have to side with her brother, they were family; Clarke could lose her best friend. She grimaced, but a voice sounding suspiciously like Raven spoke up in her head: _Calm the eff down, crazy pants. It's one date, just get it over with and figure the rest out later._

Resolve built up in Clarke. The voice was right. And, honestly, she deserved some fun. It was her senior year and lately she had been so tetchy waiting for her Harvard letter, she hadn't taken time to unwind in weeks. She hadn't even picked up her sketchbook or paintbrush, too on edge to let her artistic muse wash over her. She could use some fresh company and a drink. This would be good for her.

But that resolve slowly started chipping away as the hands on the clock moved passed 8. By 8:30, Clarke had flopped down on the couch and began flipping through a magazine irritably, not caring that her simple black chiffon dress was wrinkling beneath her. At 8:43, she heard the buzzer go off. She took her time walking over to it, mouth pressed in a hard line.

She picked up the phone next to the buzzer. "Bellamy?"

"This is where you live, Princess?" She heard his voice through the phone, "I was expecting a doorman to greet me with champagne."

Clarke huffed. The Princess nickname came up during their argument the last time they saw each other. Octavia had apparently told him certain things about her that - while true - in no way, shape, or form defined who she was. She supposed Bellamy took them out of context from the rest of whatever story Octavia was telling him. He latched onto the Princess idea, and Clarke was not pleased to learn he still remembered it. This was definitely a bad idea.

(Mostly she was annoyed because the place she wanted to live did have a doorman, but Octavia and Raven couldn't afford it and they both refused to let her pay a larger share of the rent).

"I'm coming down," she told him, not replying to his jibe.

Bellamy was dressed much more casual than her, jeans and a t-shirt, but he was still as handsome as ever. Clarke wasn't afraid to admit that he was good looking; it was a simple fact. Whether she was attracted to him, though, had always been a resounding no. She tried to keep an open mind, though, for Octavia.

"Hello, Bellamy," she greeted, as politely as she could muster after having to wait for three quarters of an hour. "It's nice to see you again."

But he was still looking up at her building with a small crease in his forehead. "This is really the place, huh?"

"Ok, what is your problem with my apartment building?"

Bellamy looked at her, then, as if he just noticed she was there. "O lives here," he replied.

Clarke pursed her lips, eyebrows raised sardonically. "Yes, I'm aware of that, given that she is my roommate."

Bellamy huffed. "Is it a safe?"

"Yes," she said, sighing. "Very safe. You need a key card to get into the building and up the elevator."

Bellamy seemed satisfied with her answer, because he finally moved his attention away from the brick facade of the apartment complex and onto her. Clarke took a breath and inwardly decided to forgive him for being late (though he didn't apologize). Fresh start, right now. She was determined to have a good time. She smiled at him.

"Right, so, what do you want to do?" Bellamy asked, looking at her expectantly.

Clarke blanched. "You don't have anything planned?" She asked, trying not to sound overly judgmental.

Bellamy put his hands up as if he was surrendering. "Well, so-orry, Princess. I just figured since I'm new to the city and you've been here the past four years, you'd know better than me."

She hated the way he seemed to talk down to her, but her cheeks flushed at his logic; she shouldn't have assumed he'd have a plan. "Wanna just go get a beer?" She asked, mildly defeated.

"Fine by me."

Clarke gave him points for opening the door to his police cruiser for her. But those points were immediately negated as she took in the state of his car. Piles of paperwork littered the dashboard and center console, along with a Chick-Fill-A bag and a few empty Starbucks cups. Clarke never claimed to be the tidiest person, her room was cluttered with knickknacks and art supplies, but she wasn't _dirty_. Not to mention, she always pegged Bellamy for the type of guy to call his car "baby" and be a nutcase about keeping it clean. She was clearly mistaken.

"Isn't this your work car?" She asked when he sat down in the drivers seat, looking behind her to confirm that there were, indeed, bars on the window separating the front from the back.

Her date nodded in assent.

"Isn't this," she began, motioning towards the mess, "kind of unprofessional?"

Bellamy slowly turned to look at her, his face incredulous and clearly angry. Clarke geared up for a fight. He opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by the insistent buzzing of his cellphone.

Clarke watch him smirk at the name that flashed on his caller ID. He swiped to answer it, and her mouth fell open slightly. She would never answer her phone on a date. His smirk grew and he even had the audacity to raise one finger at her, telling her to wait. She stared at him, dumbfounded, and - though she couldn't make out what the voice was saying - heard the muffled noises of a distinctly female voice on the other end of his phone.

"Hey to you, too," he said, still holding his finger up at Clarke. The voice said something that made him laugh. "No, you stop," he responded playfully. Clarke's mouth hung open, eyes growing wider in shock, anger, disgust, as he continued his conversation. "Yea, yea, for sure. Ten?" He glanced over at Clarke quickly, letting his hand fall and setting it on the armrest. "Let's make it 9:30." Clarke made a noise of disbelief in the back of her throat. "Ok, see you then," he laughed one more time and tapped his screen to end the call.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Clarke asked, still staring at him in wide-eyed disbelief.

Bellamy tried to look innocent. "Oh, that? No, that was my... sick aunt," he said shrugging.

Clarke laughed derisively. "Are you fucking kidding me!" She repeated, her voice growing in volume. "You don't have any aunts, you complete moron."

Bellamy seemed to remember who he was talking to. Clarke, best friends of his little sister, would know if he had any ailing aunts, or any aunts at all.

He shrugged again, and the gesture infuriated her. "Look," he said, "we both knew we're just doing this for my sister, so let's just go get a beer-,"

"Fuck no!" Clarke said, still laughing, for lack of any other way to express how furious she was. "Fuck no I'm not going to get a beer and play nice with you!"

Bellamy's face hardened. "Well, fine then, Princess-"

But Clarke was already halfway out of the car. She slammed the door behind her and he didn't waste anytime driving off. "Great to see you again, Bellamy!" She called after him, sarcastic vitriol dripping from her voice. She then held her middle finger up rudely, "And fuck you, asshole!"

She already had Octavia and Raven on a conference call before she got back up to the apartment. "You're brother is a dick," she complained, walking straight for the wine. She poured a healthy amount into a mug, not bothering with a real wine glass.

She heard Octavia groan as she gulped down some cheap red they kept by the box in case of emergencies like this one. "We'll be home in a few," Raven said. Clarke hung up without responding, and - despite having taken only one swig - topped off her mug to the brim. Clarke knew a date between her and Bellamy Blake would be a mistake.

**BELLAMY**

First was the horrendous evening with Octavia's roommate, the Princess. Then Roma bailed on meeting up with him later. Then he got a call saying he needed to come into work on a Saturday. This was not shaping up to be Bellamy's weekend.

He grumbled his whole way to work, leaving his tie loose around his neck. Hardly anyone was ever at the station on a Saturday so he wasn't too concerned with dressing in perfect uniform.

To be fair, it was his fault he hadn't finished filling out the paperwork on his most recent arrest earlier in the week. He was still getting his bearings in Boston, his chief ran the office a little differently than Bellamy had come to expect in Michigan. It was a bigger city, there was more going on, and Chief Miller seemed to be grooming Bellamy and his partner to become detective one day. (He had a sneaking suspicion this was mostly due to the fact that his partner was the chief's son, but he wasn't about to cry nepotism; he'd love to become detective.)

It just meant he had to put in the work. So, trying not to physically drag his feet, Bellamy made his way to his desk, paperwork in hand. The paperwork he collected from his dashboard, which Clarke Griffin had so rudely pointed out was a mess. It may have looked disorganized, but Bellamy had no problem finding the files he was looking for this morning. She was just a controlling freak.

Nathan Miller, his partner, was already seated at the adjoining desk. "How was last night?" Miller asked, tossing a wadded up piece of paper in Bellamy's direction.

Bellamy caught it, and crushed it more in his palm. "Terrible," he said, dropping the piece paper into the trashcan. "Clarke Griffin is going to be a pain in my ass. Hey, how hard is it to falsify some arrest warrant to get her out of my hair?"

Miller merely laughed. "That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea."

The next few weeks past uneventfully. Work tended to be a droll, no interesting cases to work on. He was adjusting to life in Boston, reacquainting himself with Murphy, his good friend from high school who was coincidentally looking for a new roommate when he decided to move to Boston, and seeing Octavia more than he had in years.

That was the best part. It made the move worth it. He was so proud of his little sister. She was smart as hell, already accepted into graduate school with enough scholarship money to not add much stress to either of them. And, as much as he hated to admit it, she had a good thing going with her boyfriend. Bellamy had warmed up considerably to Lincoln. He was good for O, and he clearly made her happy.

Octavia rarely mentioned one particular blonde roommate of hers, which Bellamy appreciated. He never told her about that night, but he could rest assured that Clarke did. For a few weeks after the disaster date, Octavia treated him with brisk formality, and he didn't have to ask why. Eventually, she stopped punishing him, and they had come to a silent agreement simply to not talk about Clarke.

Through indirect references to Clarke and a lot of gabbing about the rest of their friends, Bellamy had gathered that, indeed, his sister's whole group would be remaining in Boston. He hadn't met any of them besides Clarke, but she talked about them enough to piece together who was doing what. Octavia had just found out that Indra would be mentoring her, to which she was thrilled. Lincoln was on track to complete his doctorate and hopefully become a professor. Jasper was staying on for a graduate program in bio-chemistry from Boston College. Monty got a job at a tech startup. Maya just passed her nursing exams and had secured a job as a school nurse at a local Montessori school. Raven fought off offers from all the best engineering firms in the city before deciding which one she liked best. Finn and his marketing degree were still hunting for jobs. And Clarke was headed to Harvard for medical school, where her best childhood friend, Wells, was going for law school, who Octavia could not wait to meet.

It tracked, in the image Bellamy had of Clarke in his mind, that she would be best friends with Secretary of State Thelonius Jaha's son. Princess Griffin, the nickname just fit.

He rolled his eyes; he couldn't point out any of these people in a line up, but leave it to Octavia to make sure he knew their whole life stories.

He asked Octavia, once, what she knew about his friends, and all she could tell him was that both of their names started with M. Then, embarrassed at how little she knew, she suggested they all get together after graduation. Bellamy agreed, maybe it wasn't the worst idea, trying to merge the groups. Her friends sounded nice enough. Plus, he figured, in such a large group he could at least stand to be around Clarke.

Then, everything changed. It was two weeks before her college graduation that Octavia broke their agreement not to speak directly of Clarke. He was at home, about to toss Murphy another beer, when his phone buzzed with an incoming call from his sister.

When he answered, it was immediately clear something was wrong. She sniffed into the phone, and Bellamy's stomach dropped, concern flooding through him. "O? O, what's happening? Are you alright?"

"Clarke's dad died," Octavia said finally, her voice cracking over the phone.

A viselike grip clamped over Bellamy's heart and squeezed, hard. Emotions were going haywire within him. He couldn't deny that he was relieved nothing had happened to his sister. But at the same time, he knew all too well what it felt like to lose a parent. He wouldn't wish that on his greatest enemy. Bellamy didn't hesitate when Octavia asked if she wanted to book him a ticket to D.C. for the funeral.

It was on the train to D.C. that Bellamy finally met the rest of his sister's friends. Clarke wasn't there, she had flown out immediately after receiving the call from her mother. Despite the bleak circumstances, the train ride was enjoyable. Bellamy approved of Octavia's choice of friends; he and Lincoln had even shared some conspiratorial eye rolls when the rest of the group began talking about inside jokes neither of the older men were a part of. Bellamy learned that all of them had met freshman year in their dorm, except Jasper and Monty, who grew up together in St. Louis, and Raven and Finn, who grew up together in Memphis. Raven transferred to Boston at mid-semester freshman year. She ignored Finn's reddening face as she told Bellamy the story about showing up to find Finn was dating Clarke, without her realizing they were "on a break."

Bellamy must have pulled some sort of face that betrayed how uncomfortable this story was making him (really, he didn't need to know the details), because Raven laughed. "It's all water under the bridge now, right Finn?"

Finn laughed, albeit awkwardly, and agreed. "We'll always be family, yea?"

Raven nodded resolutely. "Always." Then, she leaned in closer to Bellamy, as if sharing a secret with him, but spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, "Plus, I got to keep Clarke in the divorce, and, honestly, I think I traded up."

This got everyone laughing, even Finn. Bellamy didn't understand what about him drew two strong women like Clarke and Raven to him, but he had to give the kid his props for being self-deprecating enough to laugh off the mistakes of his past when everyone else was. Bellamy didn't think that would come so easily to him, he was more the "haunted by his choices forever" type, which was not always a good thing.

After that, the conversation remained light. No one wanted to talk about why they were all dressed up in nice black clothes.

Bellamy found himself talking about his friends. "Miller is a stand up guy. Straight shooter, but not boring about it. And Murphy... he's entertaining, but he's a dick."

Octavia grinned. "That's what Clarke called you after your date."

Bellamy had not overanalyzed his behavior from that night until now. He was already feeling terribly for what Clarke was going through, and it only made him more guilty about what went down that night. Of course, there was no way to know, then, that months later he would be attending her father's funeral and feeling every bit the jackass. He realized that maybe that's why he insisted on going to the funeral; he felt guilty for how he treated her.

"Yea, well, I deserved it," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jasper clapped him on the back, then. "Ah, well, you're gonna be in the fold, my man! No way Clarke can hold a grudge against you with all of our approvals."

Bellamy laughed, appreciating Jasper's sentiment. He caught Octavia's eyes, and she was beaming. He knew this was all she wanted all along, for him to get on with her friends. One big friend group, that's what she said she wanted when he moved to Boston. Maybe it could have happened sooner if he hadn't royally fucked up with Clarke, but he was hoping she could let bygones be bygones and they could all move forward together.

As the train came to a stop in D.C., the mood among their group sobered considerably. There was a large car waiting for them at the train station, along with a driver who carried a sign reading "friends of Clarke Griffin" in block letters.

"I hate funerals," Octavia whispered, only to him, when they were all piled in the car.

Bellamy took his baby sister's hand. "I know," he said, "I do, too."

They met each other's gaze, and he knew she was thinking of their mother. Aurora Blake had died eight years ago, when Octavia was only 13. Bellamy was nineteen, and by some miracle, the courts allowed him to remain her legal guardian. He worked a full time job, and two part time jobs, to keep her cared for and ensure she could go to college. The scholarship she received to Boston College definitely helped. Dropping her off in her freshman dorm was the hardest thing Bellamy had ever done. But he had to admit, it was nice knowing she was off somewhere, safe, and really living life. It gave him the peace of mind he needed for him to focus on what he wanted. He continued working while he figured it out, and her junior year of college he enrolled in the police academy. Six months later, she flew back to Michigan to watch him graduate, intense brown eyes softened with happy tears. For the first time, he realized that she was proud of him in the same way he was proud of her. It was a nice feeling. Their mother's absence was felt heavily that day, just like it at every big milestone. Her college graduation in a couple weeks would surely be no exception. Bellamy's heart constricted, thinking about the absence that would weigh so heavily on Clarke now, at the graduation. It wasn't fair, receiving such a devastating blow weeks before what should be a very happy occasion. He felt a greiving itch in the back of his throat and swallowed heavily.

The car pulled up to the large cathedral, and Bellamy was unsurprised to find the church jam packed. He obviously never knew Jake Griffin (having only learned his name when he picked up a program), but it was clear he was a well respected and well loved man. His eyes searched for the familiar head of blonde hair, and it wasn't long before he found her.

Clarke was standing at the front of the cathedral. Senator Jaha and two other people, who he assumed were Wells and Clarke's mother, hovered around her. He recognized her expression, the one where people offer you their sympathies and you have no choice to accept, but you wished their words changed anything, the one where you are trying your damn hardest to be strong but it feels like the world is caving in around you. He's worn that same look on his face, but something about seeing it on hers gutted him.

Her blue eyes ghosted throughout the back, but didn't land on him. Instead, he watched her make eye contact with Octavia. Bellamy heard his sister's strangled breath. He turned to give her a hug, to let her cry on his shoulder, but Lincoln was already there. Bellamy caught the man's eye and gave a firm nod.

Music started drifting out of the organ to the side of the cathedral, and everyone took a seat.

Bellamy hated funerals.

But he looked around, first at Clarke, her back to them in the front pew, then at Lincoln, his arm wrapped protectively around Octavia, then at the rest of O's friends, and finally, at his little sister. He took her free hand in his own and gave it a squeeze. He hated that Clarke lost a parent, but he knew Octavia would help as much as she could, offer as much wisdom as she could, and be there for her best friend. And he was damn proud of that. He hated death, hated that Octavia lost her mother young, but he would be hard pressed to change anything that lead them to the relationship they had today. Bellamy hated funerals, but, god, did he love her.

 

**CLARKE**

After the funeral, at the burial, Abby Griffin held her daughter in her arms. Clarke stood, stoic and still, as her mother sobbed onto the top of her hair. Clarke cried quietly, but disbelief was the only emotion that stuck. That overwhelming feeling; this can't be happening.

Jake Griffin was an esteemed member of the House of Representatives, representing the District of Columbia. He was elected on an environmental platform, and worked constantly to try and move legislation to support more green initiatives. He was an artist, like Clarke. And a good man. He was her hero. And now he was gone. Killed by a drunk driver on his way home after a long night in the office.

This can't be happening.

Afterwards, Clarke waved at all of her friends standing in the back of the crowd. Even Bellamy and Finn, who she was shocked to see. She was too exhausted to feel anything other than gratitude at their presence; the Finn debacle was years and her horrible date with Bellamy months ago, and - as she had just learned - life was truly too short to hold grudges.

Grabbing Wells's hand for support (and allowing a small, watery laugh when Octavia motioned to her dress and mouthed the word "gorgeous"), they got into the black limousine with her mother and his father.

That night, in her childhood bedroom, she cried. She cried until her stomach felt like it was turned inside out and her throat was scratched raw. She cried until no more tears came out, until she was shaking, curled up in a ball on her bed.

When her breathing evened out and the tears remained at bay, she wandered around her room, opening drawers aimlessly. Her bottom desk drawer was filled with cards she had saved, birthday cards, christmas cards, those little cards from her parents she would find in her backpack at school and pretend to be embarrassed because parents were meant to be embarrassing. Clarke read them all, soaking up his scribbled cat scratch handwriting and hearing his voice in her head so clearly it was as if he was reading them to her.

_Clarke -_

_Happy first day of high school. It feels like just yesterday your mother and I were brining you home from the hospital. You were the ugliest little baby, all red faced and chubby fingered, but we loved you anyways. You amaze me every day. Your mind and heart are so big and open and I could not be more proud to be your father._

_Remember, my love, that this life is yours for the taking. Remember how blessed you are, and be thankful for it, but never, ever, use it as an excuse for complacency. Don't ever do something just because you think it's expected of you, but also don't stop yourself from going after what you want because you're afraid. You are lucky, you can have anything you want in this life, if you work for it. You are smart and talented and beautiful and absolutely wonderful, you can achieve absolutely anything, and your mother and I will always be here to help you where we can. Never give up on your dreams, and never be afraid to pile on more and more passions; you're allowed to have more than one._

_Words can't express how dearly I love you._

_I hope you have a good day at school._

_NO BOYS! Except Wells ;) (Relax, bug, I'm joking!)_

_Love, Dad_

At the bottom of the page, he had left a simple sketch he did of her. Her eyes were wide but her eyebrows lowered slightly, looking out from the page like she was about to take on some great challenge, like she was telling the world to bring it on. It's how she felt, now. She felt like she was going into battle, she just didn't know her opponent.

A fresh round of tears hit her like a truck. Clarke read and re-read her father's words. Her skin was covered in goosebumps and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She looked back and forth from the sketch to his words. This life is yours for the taking. Don't ever do something just because you think it's expected of you. Never give up on your dreams.

Her hand twitched, craving the calming pressure of a paintbrush lodged in the space between her fingers. She tore up the rest of her room until she found one of her old sketchbooks and charcoals. She spent the rest of the night drawing, not caring that her tears splashed on the book making the charcoal running down the pages.

The next day, she called Harvard and deferred her acceptance. Indefinitely. Wells was the only person she told before she did it, only because he was going to Harvard for law school, and she felt a little like she was abandoning him. He told her he understood and he would support her no matter what. A little hesitantly, he asked if she was at least coming back to Boston.

"Yes, of course I am," she told him. "I'm not missing my graduation in two weeks."

And he looked visibly relieved. A few minutes later, Wells - seemingly unable to hold his tongue any longer - asked, "What are you going to do?"

Clarke remembered the drawing her dad did of her in the letter. She mirrored that expression now, her blue eyes wide and mouth turned up determinedly. "I'm going to be an artist."

Wells encouraged her as much as her mother did not. Abby was sure Clarke was throwing her life away. The more Abby protested Clarke's choice, the more she grew to resent her mother, and the more she was sure she had made the right one.

Returning to Boston felt like coming home. Even with her mother in tow, who she had not had a real conversation with in a week. That morning, she went down for breakfast and Abby announced that she would come back to Boston with her. It just made sense, since she would be coming there for her graduation anyways. Clarke simply nodded. She was broken, sad, and confused, but ready to get back to her friends and her art. And this rift with her mother was not going to wipe away the determination instilled in her by her father. Life was hers for the taking, and she was not going to give up on her dreams. He never did, and so neither would she. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I suggested on tumblr a Life As We Know It AU and then I just could not get it out of my head so I gave up and decided to write it. If you haven't seen the movie, you should watch it, it's super cute. This fic will generally follow the plot of the movie, but I'll take creative license where I see fit! 
> 
> This first chapter is a lot of backstory mostly because I think I'm already so sad about killing off Octavia and Lincoln (guys, I'm so torn up about it, but I'm also a sucker for angst and heartbreak and basically I like torturing myself so I'm going to do it and I'm so so so sorry.) 
> 
> Please review! I'll try and get the next chapter up as soon as possible!


	2. Chapter 2

**Bellamy**

Graduation was a bittersweet affair. Sitting up in the school's stadium bleachers, Bellamy whooped and hollered louder than anyone - save for maybe Lincoln, who was sitting next to him - when Octavia strutted across the stage to snatch her diploma. He applauded courteously for Finn. Maya was positively beaming when she was awarded her diploma. Monty almost tripped; Bellamy didn't even try to hold back his laugh. He cheered when Clarke walked, but his heart beat low in his chest; he could tell she was putting on a brave face. He applauded Jasper and Raven when their names were called, but spent the rest of the ceremony with Clarke's sad smile stuck in his mind.

Bellamy still hadn't talked to Clarke since their fight. He wasn't able to talk to her at the funeral, and from what he gathered via Octavia, she was so busy with finals and avoiding her mother that she'd been largely off the grid the past two weeks since. Apparently, avoiding Abby Griffin was made more difficult by the fact that she was staying at their apartment until graduation. Bellamy didn't ask what was going on between Clarke and her mom, and Octavia didn't offer it up, which made him think Clarke wasn't talking about it. Octavia was not the best at keeping secrets, especially from him (not since the Lincoln secret came out, at least); so if she knew anything, he had a feeling he would, too.

He did know that Clarke's mom was leaving that evening after the ceremony. Octavia told him Clarke insisted upon it. Her mom didn't argue when Clarke told her that their apartment was already dubbed the post-graduation party location, and celebrating four years of being out of the nest would just not be the same if her mother was there watching her.

Bellamy was excited, if not a little apprehensive, about the graduation party. He was brining Murphy and Miller. It would be their first time meeting the group. Bellamy reminded himself that it was technically only the second - maybe third - time he'd met them, but it felt like he already went through so much with them, in a weird way, he couldn't remember a time before being part of the gang. (He rolled his eyes at himself, and vowed to never tell Octavia he just thought of her friends - their friends - as "the gang.")

On the flip side, though, he thought about Clarke and how hard this whole day must have been for her. He didn't know her well enough to know whether she was more the type to want to party with her friends as a distraction, or if a party was too overwhelming for her.

His plan was to just take the group's lead on how to act around her.

After the rest of their friends spent the obligatory post-graduation few hours with their families, the group planned to convene at the girls' apartment. It would be the first time Bellamy had been back there since his blow up with Clarke.

Bellamy took Miller and Murphy out for a beer beforehand, not having to partake in the family aspect of graduation. He was pleased to find the other two boys got along well. Murphy was on relatively good behavior, and, if anything, Miller found him more amusing than offensive.

Bellamy sent a quick text to Octavia to tell her they were arriving, and she replied that she'd come down to let them in. Once they were in the elevator, Octavia pressed her key over the sensor and pressed the button for her floor. She hugged both Miller and Murphy in the elevator when Bellamy introduced them. Murphy flashed him an odd look over his sister's shoulder, and he laughed.

The party was already in full swing. Bellamy could tell before O even opened the door. Music pounded from inside and there were intermittent shouts and cheers, he assumed some sort of drinking game was taking place.

Once inside, he was immediately impressed with the preparation that went into this little post-graduation shindig. There was a keg in the kitchen, beer pong tables set up in the hallway that lead back to the bedrooms, and someone (Maya, he guessed) had baked too many party snacks, ranging from cupcakes with little graduation caps on them to homemade mini pizzas.

Murphy and Miller needed no help from Bellamy introducing themselves around. He helped himself to beer from the keg and sipped it for a moment, watching Miller shake Monty's hand and Octavia force Murphy to take a sip of whatever fruity drink she had concocted for herself. Then, she pull him over to the beer pong tables, teaming up with him to face off against Lincoln and Finn, who were, apparently, the reigning champions.

His eyes settled on Clarke, who was sitting on the couch in the living room. She was chatting with Jasper, red cup in hand. Taking the group's lead was a good plan, in theory, but watching her now, Bellamy realized a better plan was to just give her space. He hadn't said a single word to her at the funeral, if he hadn't been standing so close to Octavia when the two of them silently communicated across the cemetery lot, he would've assumed she didn't even know he was there. Making the last time they talked when they were at each others' throats. Bellamy knew he had to check his hero complex at the door and realize that her dad dying had no effect on her relationship with him. She wouldn't want to talk to him. She hated him.

And, if he were being honest, he felt similarly towards her. He was empathetic, of course. But that didn't mean they would miraculously start to get along.

He downed the rest of his beer and grabbed the nozzle of the keg to refill.

"Mine, too?" A familiar voice asked, holding out a cup for him. Clarke smiled at Bellamy as he took her cup and filled it up. "Thanks," she said when he handed it back to her.

Bellamy just nodded, busying himself with refilling his own solo, fully expecting her to just walk away.

She didn't. Instead, she remained rooted to the spot, holding her beer with both hands and lightly tapping her fingers against the flimsy plastic. "So, um, I wanted to say thank you."

"For what?" Bellamy asked, turning his attention from the keg to look at her.

Clarke's eyes trailed downward momentarily, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She pulled her lip through her teeth with a popping noise and smiled, though Bellamy couldn't help notice it looked forced. "For coming to the funeral," she said.

Bellamy stared at her, unsure of how to respond. Then, he felt beer foam drip over his hand holding his cup. "Fuck," he cursed, dropping the spout and brining the cup up to his lips to suck down as much foam as he could to stop the overflow.

Clarke seemed unfazed by his mishap. "It meant a lot to me," she continued.

The foam formed a mustache on his upper lip, and he wiped it with the back of his hand as he set his cup down on the counter behind him. "Of course, Clarke," he replied. Bellamy couldn't remember ever saying her name aloud, he had always just called her Princess. He didn't hate how it felt on his tongue.

With a shrug he added, "I know how much I appreciated everyone who came to my mom's."

Clarke nodded, but didn't make a comment about his mother. Instead, she held her cup up. "Friends?" She questioned.

Bellamy smiled, grabbing his beer from behind him and clinking their solos together, hard enough that a bit of foam splashed over the edge of hers. She laughed and made a face at him. "Friends," he agreed.

Their truce was short lived. As the weeks passed after the graduation, their moment of sincerity gave way to more bickering. Inwardly, though, Bellamy recognized that since the party, there was far less malice behind their fights. In fact, he began looking forward to his sparring matches with the blonde. She was a test of his patience and his wits. She was fire and passion, and he was headstrong and stubborn, and neither were ever willing to admit defeat.

The Boston days grew longer and warmer and Clarke and Bellamy continued to clash. According to Miller, it was the rest of the group's favorite form of entertainment. Monty and Jasper took to narrating their fights. "And Clarke with the low blow, accusing Bellamy of having a small ding-a-ling, takes the lead," Monty would say. "But Bellamy recovers beautifully," Jasper would commend when Bellamy alluded that Clarke wouldn't know any better, given the length of her current dry spell.

The only time Bellamy and Clarke agreed was when they were yelling at those two to stop with the running commentary.

Despite this - or, quite possibly, because of this - by midsummer things were good, for all intents and purposes. Their little group seemed to expand every passing month. First Murphy and Miller became just as indoctrinated as he was, and then Raven started including her co-worker, Wick, who she vehemently denied any sort of attraction to. And Clarke wouldn't shut up about how excited she was to add in Wells and his girlfriend, Harper, who were due to arrive in September. Including them, their group would be 14 strong.

Bellamy knew moving to Boston was the right choice. In fact, he couldn't remember a time being so happy with his decision. Bellamy had a bad habit of choosing poorly and agonizing over it. But finally, he seemed to have made the right choice.

The only complaint he had was the fact that their group chat was constantly - and he meant constantly - blowing up his phone.

Eventually, Lincoln showed him how to mute the conversation. According to the older man, Octavia allowed this, as long as he promised to check it every few hours so he didn't miss out plans being solidified, which usually went down exactly like this:

_yo bitchez. plan for tonight? - OB_

_monty and i have been pregaming since noon - JJ_

_last year's shady spring break moonshine = the literal tits - JJ_

_should we all just go over to jonty's? - RR_

_down. - OB_

_Sounds good to me! I'm already here! (Brought the boys snacks, LOL) - MD_

_Question: Are there any snacks left? - KW_

_lolololol no - MG_

_#drunchies - JJ_

_I can pick up more on my way over from work. - LT_

_thanks, babe! - OB_

_everyone else? quick yes/no GO - OB_

_I'll be there - CG_

_wish i could say i had something better to do - JM_

Miller and I will be there after our shift - BB

_We can always just hang out there for a bit and then hit up Dubs - FC_

_Too much underage drinking at Dubs, I don't want to have to be on duty - NM_

Agreed. - BB

_we'll see where the night takes us ;) - OB_

_We're not going clubbing, Tav. - CG_

_we'll seeeeeee!!! - OB_

And they always ended up going clubbing. Or, really, doing whatever Octavia wanted. She was just as headstrong and stubborn as Bellamy, but she was far better at charming people into agreeing with her. Octavia was the undisputed leader of their little group. She had even named them The Renegades, and though it was so juvenile and ridiculous to name a friend group, Bellamy found himself using the term. She just had that way about her. He may have resented her for it, if he wasn't so damn proud of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, as I mentioned in one of the comments, my original plan for this was to be a 5-parter. But this whole "before the tragedy" bit sort of took on a life of its own. I decided just to go with it, so expect more of that in the next few chapters before the sadness and angst hit!
> 
> I figured you would prefer if I updated as I finished POV sections, as opposed to waiting until I had both Bellamy and Clarke's parts done. So the chapters may be slightly shorter, but that just means more of them and I can update more quickly so win/win?! 
> 
> Thank you for the comments I've received so far! Keep them coming! I live for reviews *wink, wink*  
> I want to do right by these characters and this story so constructive criticism truly is always welcome. 
> 
> Also, quickly, to avoid any sort of confusion at their text message sign offs:  
> OB - Octavia Blake  
> JJ - Jasper Jordan  
> RR - Raven Reyes  
> MD - Maya Davidson  
> KW - Kyle Wick  
> MG - Monty Green  
> LT - Lincoln Thomas  
> CG - Clarke Griffin  
> JM - John Murphy  
> BB - Bellamy Blake  
> FC - Finn Collins  
> NM - Nathan Miller  
> and eventually-  
> WJ - Wells Jaha  
> HF - Harper Finnegan
> 
> {WHEW\HUGE FRIEND GROUP\YAY!}


	3. Chapter 3

**Clarke**

By the beginning of September, Clarke was starting to believe the brave face she put on to face the world every day. Her smile started to feel more genuine. She never felt like she had to force laugher. Her bereavement wasn't the first thing she thought about in the morning, nor the last thing she thought about before she went to bed. She started talking to her mother again.

Wells arriving in Boston had a lot to do with that. "She's all alone in that house of yours," he told her as they unpacked his living room furniture in his and Harper's new apartment. "I know you miss her, too."

"Fine, I'll call her," she said, as Harper returned announcing she was carrying the last box from the car. "I can finish unpacking these," Clarke motioned to the few boxes left, "you two go get ready. The Renegades are dying to meet you."

They stared back at her blankly. "The Renegades?" Wells asked.

Clarke smiled, "You're new best friends."

Wells and Harper shared an apprehensive look, prompting Clarke to toss a pillow in their direction. Wells caught it and set it down on the couch next to him, and they both shuffled off to their bedroom, which had already been unpacked.

Once she heard their door click shut, she took her best friend's advice. Clarke pulled her cell phone out and dialed Abby's number. It went to voicemail; Clarke figured she was probably working. "Hey mom, it's me. Just calling to see how you've been. Um, yea, I guess call me back, if you want," she said, adding an "I love you" at the end with some effort.

(After that, the mother and daughter began talking on the phone every couple of days. It was still tense, and Clarke had taken to hanging up on Abby whenever the words "med school" or "wasted potential" came out of her mouth. But it was with a more matter-of-fact attitude that the younger woman came to accept that she only had one parent left, and she shouldn't write her out of her life completely.)

Clarke shoved her phone back in her pocket and got back to work unpacking boxes. She lifted one labeled "pictures" onto the couch and pulled it open. Picture frames of all different sizes were stacked on top of each other, filling the cardboard box to the brim. Clarke took them out one at a time, setting them on the wooden floor to arrange them before hanging them up.

In the middle was a beautiful black and white picture of Harper and Wells that Clarke snapped at their high school graduation. She could hardly believe the two had been together for so long, despite going to different colleges. Harper was almost the exact opposite of Clarke; where Clarke was uptight, Harper was laid back. When Clarke was always poised for a fight, Harper let most things roll off her shoulders. The two girls had their fair share of ups and downs, but they eventually realized they both shared a deep love of Wells Jaha and neither of them was going anywhere, so by their senior year of high school they had buried the hatchet for good. Clarke was very happy they did; Harper and Wells were a good fit.

Next to that picture was one of all three of them, from when Harper and Clarke surprised Wells at his fraternity formal junior year. Harper had flown all the way back to DC from Los Angeles. Clarke picked her up from the airport, having arrived the night before on the train from Boston. Wells was absolutely shocked when they showed up at Georgetown, and the picture (taken by her mother, who Clarke had to very sternly tell to go home when they were leaving for the dance) captured the moment perfectly. Wells's mouth was hanging open in pure shock, and if Clarke looked closely enough, she swore she noticed his eyes glistening with tears.

There was a picture of just Wells and Clarke as kids, both in midair after jumping off the swings. Clarke smiled at their innocence. It was so long ago, so much had changed. And yet, Clarke could rest assured knowing that Wells was still the guy who would urge her to swing just a little bit higher, ignore her fear, and take the leap.

Clarke pulled the last picture out of the box and her heart constricted in her chest. Framed in simple gold was a candid picture of the Griffin and Jaha families from some society event they had all attended together. Abby had her hand on Thelonius's shoulder, laughing about something the man said. Jake was crouched down slightly, sharing a joke with a young Clarke and Wells. Clarke stared at her ten year old self. She was looking at her father as if he hung the moon. She wished she could remember what he was saying to them at that moment that made them both look so delighted.

Her fingers lightly traced his outline over the glass of the picture frame.

"He was imitating Senator Sidney," Wells said from behind her, pulling her out of her reverie. She hadn't even heard the bedroom door open back up.

"That's right." Clarke remembered now. Unlike her mother and Wells's father, Jake's opinion about the events they had to go to was childlike, far more aligned with Wells and Clarke's. He used to jokingly imitate important politicians and make funny faces at Clarke over the fancy dinner table, leaving her in stitches until Abby shot her a look telling her to behave.

She finally set the picture down and turned to face Wells. He was looking at her with concern, but she didn't want to lose herself to maudlin reminiscence, not when they had a Renegade party to go to. He had changed out of his gym shorts into jeans and she shot him a thumbs up.

Harper exited the bedroom a few moments later, wearing black jeans and navy blazer, her hair piled on top of her head in a chic top knot. Clarke was immediately envious of the way she could pull off the casual but cool, stylishly disheveled look. Clarke either had to put in extreme amounts of effort and get Octavia to pick out her outfit, or she was walking around in boyfriend jeans and a white tank top that was covered in paint stains. There was rarely an in between.

"You both look nice," she said as they headed out of the apartment, "just warning you, though, there's a good chance the rest of the group will be in pajamas." The Renegades did not throw fancy parties like the ones the three of them were used to going to in DC, they were a casual bunch, and Clarke loved them all the more for it.

Clarke sat in the front seat of Wells's car so she could navigate them to Jasper and Monty's. It wasn't a far drive, but she capitalized on all the time she had to give them the scoop about all the people they'd be meeting tonight. "God knows I've already told them plenty about you," she said, her eyebrows raising cryptically.

By the time they parked on the street across from the apartment complex, Wells and Harper knew how everyone knew each other, what they were all doing for a living, and what talking points to avoid ("for example," she told Wells, "don't get Murphy started about the government, I don't want to cry conspiracy theorist but... all I'm saying is being the son of the Secretary of State is not going to earn you cool points, in his book." Wells looked rattled so Clarke assured him that other than that, Murphy was, if not agreeable, then certainly tolerable. "Plus I specifically told him to be on his best behavior.") 

When Clarke let herself into Jasper and Monty's, Wells and Harper close behind, the Renegade party was in full swing. Clarke could tell Wells and Harper were immediately overwhelmed. She watched Wells's eyes dart from person to person, and she could practically hear him mentally assigning faces to the names Clarke had already told him. She allowed herself a chuckle when Murphy shook Wells's hand, both of them appeasing each other a bit wearily. 

After introductions, they all sat back down around the living room. Clarke nabbed the couch, pulling Harper and Wells down with her, pointedly ignoring Wells say they would be fine sitting on the floor. "Newbies get the most comfortable seats, that's just polite," Wick said, and Clarke remembered a few months back when that had been him. 

She sipped on a bottle of beer as pleasant small talk flowed throughout the room.

"How happy are you that you're not doing long distance anymore?" Clarke heard Octavia ask Harper.

"We're thrilled. Long distance was tough, but we're so lucky to have both been accepted for graduate programs here in Boston," Harper answered, patting Wells's hand on top of hers. She still sounded so diplomatic, she had been trained well at the social events Wells took her to in DC.

"Not just 'in Boston,'" Clarke pointed out, "at Harvard law!" she bragged, knowing neither Harper nor Wells would do it themselves. As she expected, Harper lowered her head a bit, her cheeks faintly red.

"That's amazing," Octavia beamed, "seriously, congratulations."

They both mumbled a thanks as Clarke leaned over to grab two more beers from the cooler and shove them in each of their hands. "Loosen up," she whispered to Wells, nudging him with her shoulder.

The beers ended up helping. Two turned to four, and then a few more, and by midnight the whole group of 14 had moved all the seats to form a big circle, cracking up at a story Wells was animatedly telling about Clarke as a pre-teen. She tried to look annoyed and stony faced, but one glance across the circle at Bellamy, the only one who was looking at her instead of Wells - clearly adding this story to his arsenal of things to hold over her - and she broke. Scrunching her nose up at him, Clarke allowed the embarrassment and the humor of it all pull her into a fit of giggles.

After that, they decided to play a drinking game. Circle of death. And the rest of the night became a blur.

 

Clarke woke up at her apartment with hazy memories of Harper telling her how awesome her friends were, and Clarke assuring her right back that they were her friends, too. She remembered telling Harper that this was basically a nightly occurrence, and immediately pulled out her phone to text Harper that while they did hang out almost every night, it was rarely with that much alcohol. She didn't want the other girl waking up thinking they were a load of alcoholics.

Clarke squinted against the brightness of the phone screen, her head pounding in her skull. She was unsurprised to find a long string of texts in The Renegades's group message.

The first one was from Raven and time stamped 3:02AM:

_u r the prettiest broom in a broom closet of brooms - RR_

The next texts didn't start rolling in until 9:47AM, and none acknowledged Raven's drunk text, so Clarke didn't even try to figure out what the hell she was talking about.

She caught up with the texts quickly;

_C UR FRIENDS ROCK, ADD THEM TO THE GROUP NOW - OB_

_Why does my nose hurt? - JM_

_You thought you could crush a can on it - FC_

_You couldn't - NM_

_I gave you an icepack - MD_

_You threw it away - MG_

_CLARKE WAKE UP - OB_

_She'll sleeps until at least noon O, you know that. - BB_

_#strugglebus - JJ_

_You or Clarke? - LT_

_Quite possibly everyone. - KW_

_^^^ - JJ_

At 11:39, Clarke responded;

I'm awake before noon. Suck on that, Blake! - CG

The text replies flew in almost immediately;

_I stand corrected, she'll sleep until at least 11:39 O, you know that. - BB_

_C! I was thinking about it and I think we need an official Renegades initiation ritual. - OB_

_Will there be ritualistic animal slaughter? - KW_

_YAS OBVI - JJ_

_lol, jas! he's joking - MD_

_hard pass on an initiation, too culty - JM_

I actually agree with Murphy - CG

_I actually agree with Clarke agreeing with Murphy. - BB_

_lincoln liked the idea :( - OB_

_No, I didn't. Sorry, love. - LT_

_ugh! fine! no initiation for wells and harper. just add them to the group already, i need their numbers! - OB_

_I wouldn't mind grabbing Wells's number off you either, Clarke. He mentioned he might know a few people looking to hire... - FC_

Fine, fine, I'll add them to the group - CG

 

She sent a quick text to Wells and Harper, warning them what they were about to be subjected to. Harper responded for both of them;

_haha, glad they liked us. - HF_

you say that now... - CG

With a few clicks of her phone, she added them to the group labeled RENEGADES (in all caps, courtesy of Octavia); 

_Wells, Harper, welcome to the group text from hell - CG_

_Straight out of hell.... making this the second time I've agreed with you this morning - BB_

_our group text rocks, shut up, you two, stop being all crotchety - JJ_

_LOL bell and clarke are sooo crotchety! like an old married couple! - MG_

Nope. Putting a stop to this now. New topic. - CG

_Stop saying things I agree with, it's making me uncomfortable. - BB_

Shut up, Bellamy. - CG

_Much better. - BB_

_OK BUT GUYS FOCUS: YAYYY WELLS AND HARPER!!! - OB_

_welcome to the renegades!!! - OB_

_Clarke said this would be overwhelming, she did not lie. - WJ_

_I'm exhilarated - HF_

It wasn't until 2:12 that Raven's name popped up on Clarke's phone;

_What the hell was I talking about brooms for? - RR_

She didn't make an appearance outside her bedroom for another hour and a half.

 

A few weeks later, Clarke watched as Wells, Harper, Jasper, Lincoln, and Octavia all went off to their respective graduate (or, in Lincoln's case, doctorate) programs. It was strange, not going off to school in the fall for the first time in basically her whole life. She felt a twinge of jealousy that they were continuing onto such clear paths, one more year of schooling for all of them (even more for Wells and Harper), while her future was still a complete unknown.

And then she reminded herself that she chose this path for a reason, that she could have played it safe and gone with to medical school. She could've been at Harvard with Wells and Harper. She always did everything right, her entire life; she played it safe. She may have had moments where she missed that security, but every night when she got home from work, she lost herself to a new blank canvas, and she knew she had made the right choice.

Clarke enjoyed work, generally speaking. She knew she was lucky to find a job so quickly after graduation, poor Finn was still striking out. Then again, it wasn't like Clarke was looking to find a job that required a degree, like Finn was. She was hired by an art gallery in the city. She was basically the assistant to the gallery owner, Dante Wallace. She answered the phone at the gallery and talked to customers as they perused Wallace's work. Sometimes, when Wallace was stuck in a "creative bunker", he rented gallery space to other local artists to sell there work. Sometimes, he turned the gallery into an exhibit, curating experiential art that wasn't for sale. Clarke presented him with up and coming artist portfolios and helped him decide on the exhibitions that would come through.

"I'm stuck in the bunker," he said, one Friday afternoon in early October, suddenly appearing from his adjoining studio.

Clarke quickly clicked the lock button on her phone and set it in the top drawer of her desk. "Sorry to hear that, Dante," she said. "Are you thinking about renting some wall space?"

"Nah, let's get an exhibit. Something different, no actors this time." Clarke shuddered, remembering the exhibit in July that had turned out to be wannabe actors getting in your face and staring at you for an uncomfortable length of time. "See what you can find, won't you?"

Nodding diligently, Clarke bit back her disappointment that he didn't want to showcase local artists during this artistic dry spell. She had been planning on presenting him with her art for a few weeks now, and was still waiting for the right time.

Raven had told her to just go for it and shove her portfolio under his nose until he realized how brilliant she was. But Raven didn't understand how hard it was to make contacts in the art world, how relationships needed to be built carefully, especially with someone of mild importance like Dante Wallace. If he was in a mood the first time he saw her work, he could easily write her off for good, and then she'd never get anywhere.

She realized as she was talking to Raven about it, that what she really wanted to do was open her own gallery. She wanted to be the person who people had to carefully cultivate a relationship with. She wanted to be the artist, not the assistant. Clarke even thought of a name for her future gallery: The Dropship, based on a painting she was particularly proud of, a peaceful night sky disturbed by a large metal ship falling from it, ablaze, destroying the trees below.

That was the dream. This was reality; searching for experiential art to transform the gallery into an exhibition, when her whole body itched to hang her own art up on the blank white walls.

Reality sucked.

But it could have been worse. It was one of the last rare warm days of the year, and she only had an hour left before she could leave and enjoy the weekend with her friends.

By the end of the hour, Clarke was finishing up typing up her list of suggestions for exhibits. The top one was bolded, her personal favorite, with the note that they would only be interested if Wallace could commit to two months of dedicated gallery space, starting in December. It was an auditory exhibit, where guests would put on headphones and hear pre-recorded clips of different people from around the world say phrases in their native language and the english translation, and vice versa, as well as explain what those phrases meant to them, personally. There were no actors involved, and that was a definite plus.

Clarke printed the document out and placed it on Wallace's desk and grabbed her jacket from the coat rack by the door. Grabbing her phone from her desk, she headed out of the small gallery, turning off the lights and locking the door behind her when she left. Wallace was back in his studio and Clarke knew he wouldn't remember to do it himself.

 

When Clarke got back to her apartment, she was surprised to find only the girls were there. Usually everyone convened there after work on Friday's, which meant Finn, Jasper, Maya, Harper, and Wells were always there first, coming from "job hunting" for the first, and class for the rest, all of which ended long before any of the rest of their grown up jobs. Raven usually showed up after Clarke, with Wick in tow, since they worked together. But she was sitting next to Harper, tinkering with something that looked suspiciously like Clarke's coffee maker. Clarke rolled her eyes, she had come to trust, by now, that whatever Raven was doing was no doubt going to be an improvement, but she still didn't think it was strictly necessary to supercharge her kurig.

All the girls looked up when she walked in. "Where's everyone else?" She asked, hanging her keys up.

"Didn't you get my text?" Octavia asked.

Clarke pulled her phone out of her pocket and clicked it on. Sure enough, there was a text sent an hour ago to just the five girls:

_everyone's meeting at lincoln's tonight, but need you all at our place first! asap! - OB_

Clarke furrowed her eyebrows and sat down next to Maya. "Ok, well, we're all here. What's going on?"

Octavia sucked in a deep breath, taking a moment to look at each one of them in the circle. "Ok, I have some news. And you four are my best girl friends so I wanted to tell you before everyone else. Well, except for Bellamy. And Lincoln, obviously."

Clarke's grin was growing by the second, she had a feeling she knew where this was going (if she was right, the fact they were all going to Lincoln's tonight made much more sense) and she wanted her friend to spit it out already!

Octavia bit down on her bottom lip, but her wide, excited smile still shone. She lifted up her left hand, wiggling her fingers in the middle of the circle, showing off a beautifully simple diamond ring. "I'm engaged!"

All of the girls burst into shrieks of joy; Raven led the trend of tackling Octavia to the ground and all of them joined in. Tears and laughter and questions flooded out of all of them. "When did he do it? How? Tell us everything!"

Octavia pushed them off of her. "All of your questions shall be answered tonight, at our engagement party!"

A few more moments of fawning over there ring and congratulating her, and Octavia finally told them enough, they had a party to get to, and Clarke had to change out of her work clothes.

It took some effort for Clarke to pull herself together enough to leave the circle and head back to her room to get ready for Octavia's engagement party! (She could practically feel the exclamation marks running through her head.) Once she was in her room, she realized the bride-to-be had followed her.

Octavia flopped down on Clarke's bed while Clarke sorted through her clothes to find something to wear. "I can't believe it, I'm engaged!"

Clarke couldn't believe it either. She was so happy for her friend. "Lincoln is a lucky man," she told her.

The dark haired girl sat up on Clarke's bed, then, and grabbed the blonde's hand. "I want you to be my maid of honor."

Clarke felt her heart jump and tears instantly well up in her eyes. She sank down on the bed next to Octavia. "I would love to be your maid of honor," she told her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Good," Octavia said, her voice muffled by Clarke's body enveloping hers. "Now get off me and finish getting ready! I have a fiancee I'd really like to see."

Clarke laughed and detangled herself from her friend, focusing on the current task of finding something to wear. She settled by leaving her work skirt on but changing into boots and trading in her blazer for a leather jacket.

 

On the way to Lincoln's, it really sunk in. Octavia was getting married. Clarke was her maid of honor. Clarke didn't feel old enough for this. And yet, one glance at Octavia, and she knew she was; this was real, and it was perfect, and it was time. It had been a long time since she'd felt such pure joy. It was almost painful, the way her happiness at this moment seemed to reach down into her very soul, like it was trying to burn away all the darkness of the past few months. Cleansing.

It only took them twenty minutes to get to Lincoln's on the T. All of the boys were already there, and judging by the way they rushed to Octavia, Clarke knew Lincoln had shared the news with them.

They all settled in to hear Lincoln and Octavia tell the story about how it happened. They had planned on waiting until after Lincoln had his PhD and Octavia had her Master's, but Lincoln couldn't wait any longer. He found the ring, asked Bellamy, and proposed within a week. He got down on one knee the minute Octavia walked into his apartment; he had been too flustered to remember to wait until after dinner, like he had planned. Octavia had been completely shocked, but she was never one for patience, anyways, so she was all for forgetting their plan to wait. So much so, in fact, that they already set a wedding date. December 14th. Two and a half months to plan a wedding.

Octavia said it shouldn't take long to plan, considering it would have to be a pretty simple wedding; neither of them had any parents or enough money to do anything more. Clarke noticed Bellamy's eyes fall away, looking almost ashamed at that fact. She chewed on the inside of her lip. Leave it to Bellamy to feel embarrassed that he couldn't give her the huge, grand wedding she didn't care about. Clarke knew all that mattered to Octavia was they were all there, and none of them would miss it for the world.

She continued to glance over at Bellamy until his mood passed and he started looking more relaxed and happy again. It only took a few moments and one glance at Octavia's glowing smile; the celebratory mood easily prevailed tonight.

 

Wedding planning took over Clarke's life for the next two months. She knew she was slacking at the gallery, but - to be fair - there wasn't much to do. She confirmed the exhibit starting on December 1st and worked on contacting regular customers to buy the art remaining in the gallery. When she wasn't working on clearing out the rest of Wallace's art, her head was on wedding plans.

By the beginning of December - the day a young woman named Monroe showed up at the gallery to install the auditory exhibit - nearly everything for the wedding was done. The cake, dress, and bridesmaid dresses had all been purchased. The venue for the ceremony and reception were both set. Octavia said she was almost finished writing her vows.

That weekend, Tav would be moving her stuff out of their apartment and into Lincoln's. Clarke was dreading it; she and Octavia had been roommates for five years. Octavia assured her nothing would change, and Clarke found solace in the fact that she did see all of The Renegades incredibly often, whether they lived with her or not. Not to mention, the room would only remain an empty reminder of Octavia's departure to married life for a couple of weeks; Maya was moving in when her lease expired on New Years Day.

Beyond packing up the rest of Octavia's things, really, all that was left was the bachelorette party.

She sent a text to Maya, Raven, and Harper telling them to make sure they kept the following Friday night free. She then texted Bellamy, Lincoln's best man, and he told her that he was planning the bachelor party for the same evening. Then her phone lit up with a subsequent text from him;

_Just don't end up at the same strip club as us. - BB_

Somehow, I don't foresee that becoming an issue. - CG

 

By 10:00 PM that Friday, Octavia was already hammered. Her fuzzy tiara was falling off the side of her head as she squealed in delight when the bartender passed her another shot. "I'm getting married next week!" She announced, to various cheering from the crowd at the bar. She drained the shot down her throat and slammed it back down on the wooden bar. "Ok, ok, Clarkey, what's next on the list?"

Clarke pulled out the bachelorette party checklist and grinned devilishly. "Get a kiss from the bartender!"

Without missing a beat, Octavia grabbed the man across the bar and pulled him into her, planting a wet and sloppy kiss on the corner of his mouth. "CHECK!" she said, pushing him away from her.

Clarke noticed Maya grin apologetically at the man, but he didn't seem to mind. The blonde grabbed the sharpie that was hanging around her neck and put a checkmark in the last free box. The list read:

_1\.  FEEL A GUYS BUNS_

_2\. TAKE A BLOWJOB SHOT (NO HANDS)_

_3\. USE A CHEESY PICK UP LINE_

_4\. ASK A GUY ABOUT HIS WILDEST FANTASY_

_5\. DANCE WITH A STRANGER_

_6\. GET SEX ADVICE FROM AN OLD MAN_

_7\. CONVINCE A GUY TO GIVE YOU HIS BOXERS_

_8\. GIVE SOMEONE A LAP DANCE_

_9\. ASK A GUY TO BORROW A CONDOM_

_10\. GET A KISS FROM THE BARTNEDER_

The checklist completed, the girls found their way to a booth in the back of the bar. They set their drinks down and took a half second breather. "What do you think the guys are doing right now?" Harper asked.

"All nine of them are headed to some strip club," Clarke answered.

Octavia laughed, "I hope they all get loads and loads of lap dances!"

"Monty and Miller won't care about that," Raven said, absently.

Everyone whipped around to face her, wondering if she was confirming what Clarke had suspected for the past few months.

"Crap," she muttered, realizing she had said too much.

Octavia's eyes were the size of saucers.

Raven pounded back the rest of her beer. "Ok, look, you can't tell the rest of the guys. Monty doesn't care but Miller is worried about his job, he already has the fact that his dad's the chief working against him. He's just not ready yet."

"So how do you know about it, then?" Maya asked. Clarke detected a hint of annoyance in her voice; Maya spent the most time with Monty out of any of the girls, since she had been dating Jasper for the past year and a half and those two boys were inseparable, she must have figured that if they were going to tell anyone, it would've been her.

"I'm serious, Maya, Jasper doesn't even know," Raven said, honing in on the curly haired girl.

This seemed to mollify Maya a bit. Clarke figured she was comforted by the fact that Jasper wasn't keeping anything from her, at least.

Raven rushed through a story about accidentally walking in on them one time; apparently it had been very awkward for all parties involved, and if she could burn it from her memory, she would. But she equally enjoyed having something to hold over their heads. "All in good fun," she assured. "I know they didn't want anyone to know, but I can tell they like having someone to talk to about it. They're both really happy," Raven said, smiling.

Clarke's heart warmed for them.

"So keep your mouths shut because if you screw this up for them, they'll never forgive me." And after that, Raven changed the topic. "But the rest of them, I'm sure they're loving the whole strip club thing."

"I'm sure Jasper is," Maya agreed, "he's never been to one before."

"So he says," Harper implied, giggling. "How'd you know the bachelor party plans?" She asked Clarke curiously, chasing her straw with her tongue.

Clarke shrugged, "Bellamy told me. He planned it."

"Since when do you and Bellamy talk?" Raven asked, accentuating his name in a way that reminded Clarke of talking about crushes on the playground in middle school.

She rolled her eyes. "He's the best man and I'm the maid of honor," she said, as if that completely cleared things up.

Raven was still looking at her with a small smirk on her face, but luckily Octavia interrupted before Raven could get another word in.

"I'm getting married next week!"

Clarke regretted not keeping a tally of how many times Tav had said that throughout the night; the rest of the girls could've made it a drinking game.

Probably for the best, though, she already felt the alcohol make the room sway around her, slightly. She would've been in a full on blackout if they drank every time Octavia said -

"I mean... I'm getting married. Next. Week." Clarke guessed they were approaching triple digits.

Harper led the charge of holding up their glasses, meeting each other's in the middle to clink together. "Cheers," she said loudly, "to Octavia Blake, the first of us to tie the knot."

"Cheers!" They all repeated. Clarke took a long gulp of the drink Octavia ordered for her - vodka cranberry - despite finding it wholly too sweet. Raven grabbed her cup from her hands and took a long sip. Clarke furrowed her brow to object - she may not like the drink, but she was damn well going to drink it herself, thank you very much - and Raven nodded at her empty beer glass in explanation.

"Alright, looks like some of us," Clarke began, elbowing Raven in the side, "need another drink." She used the table to give her enough leverage to stand up and head towards the bar.

As she walked away, she heard Maya ask, "So who do you think is next?"

Clarke pushed her way to the front of the bar. The sharpie and checklist dangling from her neck caught the bartender's attention quickly; one of the few perks of bachelorette parties, Clarke quickly realized - really snappy bar service. She rattled off a list of drinks, beer for Raven, vodka soda for Harper, gin fizz for Maya, and a manhattan for her, just like her dad used to drink.

They were mixing alcohols like it was their job, but Clarke was passed the point where she cared about the hangover it would inevitably lead to.

The bartender helped her carry her drinks to the table, and when she sat back down, Octavia announced that they were playing the future game.

Clarke hated the future game, but it was Octavia's night, so she took a sip of her drink and buckled in.

The future game was invented by Octavia and Maya one girls night in, and the basic premise was the group decides on a topic, and then they go through their entire group of friends and discuss how they envision their futures to be, pertaining to that topic. Whoever starts keeps going until someone disagrees, and then that person takes over until someone else disagrees, and so on and so forth until everyone in their group had been discussed at least once to no disagreement.

"Topic?" Clarke asked, though she had a nagging suspicion what it would be.

"Marriage," Harper said. Somewhere in the back of Clarke's mind it registered that this would be the first time Harper experienced the future game. At least it was an interesting topic, and she was decently drunk.

"In the order we think it's going to happen, I'm assuming?" Clarke asked.

Octavia nodded and loudly decided she would start, "Ok, well, first is obviously me and Linc and our amazing winter wedding that is NEXT WEEK! And then I think Harper and Wells, since they've been together since high school."

Harper smiled and glanced around the table, as if daring anyone to disagree. Nobody did.

"After that, I think Jasper and Maya are next." Clarke disagreed, but didn't say anything, mostly because she didn't like to play so she tended to keep her disagreements to herself, but also because she couldn't exactly look Maya in the eye and tell her she didn't think she'd be getting married anytime soon. She had a feeling Jasper was going to wait forever to propose, until Maya gave him some sort of ultimatum. But it was probably best for her to keep that downer opinion to herself.

"Next to get married will be Wick," Octavia said. Clarke watched Raven's head perk up. Raven had been adamant that nothing was going on between the two of them, that they were just coworkers and frenemies, at best. But the way she overtly tried to brush off Octavia's prediction that Wick would be getting married next, like she didn't care at all, was telling in itself. "And his beautiful bride, Raven," Octavia said, finishing her thought, a devilish grin lighting up her features.

Raven made a show of coughing into her beer. "Disagree!" She shouted, taking the floor. "Next will obviously be Bellamy and Clarke!"

"Disagree," Clarke said firmly. It was the first time she ever interjected with a disagree. Raven looked at her challengingly and Clarke sighed, wishing she would've just bit her tongue. But there was no way she was going to let the game continue with the standing prediction that Clarke and Bellamy were going to get married. No way.

Octavia groaned that they really should give it a shot, and Clarke quickly shut her down. "We tried that once. Nuclear bombs, war, bloodshed, the apocalypse. No thank you. Never again."

The bride-to-be pressed her mouth in a hard line, one that momentarily looked so much like her brother's. When she didn't say anything else, Clarke started with her predictions. "Alright, after Maya and Jasper will be Monty and Miller," no one disagreed, everyone just grinned widely, so Clarke continued. "Then I think Finn will marry some girl he's only been dating for eight months, max. She'll be nice and polite and sort of boring, and we'll do our best to accept her into the fold, but married life will get in the way and he'll start spending more time with her than us."

Maya, Harper, and Octavia all nodded thoughtfully, but Raven was staring intently at her beer. Clarke shifted in her seat, Finn + girls had always been a touchy subject for Raven, and the prediction coming out of Clarke's mouth definitely did not help.

Clarke continued, quickly. "Then I think Murphy-"

She could tell all four girls were about to disagree, so she held up a hand, "no, listen, then I think Murphy will come back from some trip to Vegas and announce that he got drunk and married a stranger! It won't last, but it'll be a shame because we'll actually like her a bit more than him."

They bursted into fits of giggles, nodding in agreement, and Clarke found she was actually enjoying being the storyteller this time. "By this time, Raven will have found the most excellent man, and they'll be the next to walk down the aisle. He'll be the life of the party and Monty will develop a very large crush on him - much to his husband's dismay - but he will have eyes only for Raven. And Wick will follow shortly after, and Raven will complain that he stole her thunder, but she won't be able to hold it against him because his fiancee is going to be even more fun than he is and also, as we will realize 9 months later, it will be a shotgun wedding."

Clarke realized there were only two people left to talk about. "Then Bellamy will meet a nice girl and marry her after a couple years and I'll die alone," she said in a rush, immediately pulling her drink to her lips. She hated predicting her own future. In retrospect, she should've thrown out more outlandish predictions earlier so someone disagreed.

All of them looked at her in clear disagreement at that final prediction. They glanced at each other, as if silently deciding who would take it. "Disagree," Maya said, stepping up.

"First you will meet someone cool and trendy at the gallery. I'm picturing a really pretty girl who's also kind of rough, you know? And you two will start dating and it'll be great and simple and easy. Meanwhile, Bellamy will be sleeping around and thinking he's cool when he's not. And then something will happen and your relationship with that girl will end for some reason, and Bellamy will be really cool and supportive about it, since - per the already agreed upon predictions - he's the only other single one in the group. And you two will realize just how thin the line between love and hate really is. And you'll live happily ever after."

Clarke made a gagging noise in the back of her throat. "Disagree!"

Maya looked between Octavia and Raven. "Overruled?" she asked.

"Overruled," Octavia said.

"Overruled," Raven agreed.

"Overruled," Harper parroted, looking confused. Clarke realized they never explained to her the overruled rule (a disagree could be overturned if the majority of the group disagrees with the disagree).

Clarke was prepared to sulk the rest of the evening about their outrageous prediction that somehow she and Bellamy would get together, but suddenly the bartender appeared back at their table with a tray of shots, and both the future game and her bitterness were forgotten.

The rest of the bachelorette party was a blur of penis shaped candy and a fireman stripper waiting for them outside their apartment when they returned from the bar. (Clarke avoided the police officer trope, knowing it would make all of them think about Bellamy, which, no thank you.)

Everyone was in stitches at the fireman's gyrating hips. Octavia demanded singles to stuff down his tiny little banana hammock, and Clarke happily obliged.

 

The next morning, the hangover did not disappoint.

Seeing the tiny little banana hammock slung over the back of her couch in the harsh light of day was far less amusing.

Clarke wondered if the fireman outfit chafed uncomfortable without underwear on.

She decided to use tongs to pick it up and throw it away.

 

The next week was the fastest week of Clarke's life. Before it even seemed possible, it was the morning of Octavia's wedding. She and Raven met Maya and Harper in the lobby of their building. Harper had two bottles of champagne and a large thing of orange juice, while Maya brought along bagels, cream cheese, and lox.

After depositing the food in the kitchen and popping open the champagne as quietly as they could, the four girls quietly let themselves into Octavia's room. All of them sprawled around her in bed, just enough to gently nudge awake.

"Good morning, Octavia soon to be Thomas," Clarke said sweetly, holding a mimosa out for her.

Octavia sat up so fast Clarke almost dropped her drink. "It's my wedding day," she said, eyes wide. And then, as an afterthought, "I'm keeping my last name."

"How modern," Raven joked. "Now come on, up at at 'em, girlfriend!"

The morning, unsurprisingly, flew by in a rush of camera flashes and mimosa refills. Once Octavia was out of the shower and strapped into her "wedding night neglige," Harper got to work pulling the bride's hair into an elegant braided up-do. The rest of the girls did their own hair, and all of them did their own makeup. (Octavia abjectly refused anyone else come near her with the eyeliner.)

Once the other four girls were dressed, they helped Octavia into her gown. Clarke patted away a tear that was forming in the corner of her eye, careful not to let her makeup run. Octavia looked stunning. Her strapless satin gown followed her curves down to below the knee, where it opened and flounced out into a gorgeous train covered in floral appliqués. Clarke gave a watery laugh when Octavia squealed at her reflection in delight. "I look hot!" She exclaimed, twirling so the bottom of her dress floated outward ethereally. None of the girls even needed to voice their agreement, it was clearly written on all of their awestruck faces.

 

Clarke glanced through the double doors of the church and nodded to Octavia who had asked if Lincoln was standing at the end of the aisle yet. He was there, along with seven of the groomsmen, all excluding Bellamy, who was standing in the back of the church with the girls, waiting to walk his sister down the aisle. It was comical, really, how many more men there were than women in their group. It made the whole church look lopsided, but when, a few weeks earlier, Clarke had pointed that out, Octavia decidedly said she didn't care; they weren't about to exclude some of The Renegades from this day.

Processional music begun drifting through the church, and Clarke watched Octavia suck in a deep breath. Bellamy took his sister's hand and leaned in closer to her, and Clarke turned around, allowing the Blakes a private moment.

Raven walked first, followed by Maya. Harper was next, and then it would be Clarke's turn, so she took the second she had left to hug her best friend. "Ready?" Clarke asked. She felt Octavia nod into her shoulder.

With a final squeeze, Clarke released the bride and took her position with a deep breath. The last one to walk before Bellamy gave away Octavia.

Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest and she needed some way to break the emotions building in her.

The moment before she started her procession, she turned around. "Don't trip over Tavia's dress," she warned Bellamy.

That did the trick. She laughed her way down the aisle, unable to stop picturing the way his face turned from a scowl at her to a look of pure terror as he realized what a real possibility it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is close to being finished, as well, so you won't need to wait long!  
> Please comment!


	4. Chapter 4

**Bellamy**

Bellamy didn’t trip over Octavia’s dress.

He was worried about it until about halfway down the aisle, when a new fear took over. He was about to give his sister away. To be married.

It didn't seem possible.

Octavia had always been Bellamy's. His little sister, his responsibility, his best friend. His whole life.

And now she was starting a new life.

He looked up at Lincoln. The burly man's eyes were shimmering with tears.

Then, it was time. They had reached the end of the aisle. Bellamy turned to Octavia and lifted the veil off her face. She was already crying. He pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead. The lump in his throat was too large to say anything, and she seemed to have the same problem, so they just nodded at each other before Bellamy forced himself to take his place behind Lincoln.

The wedding was quick and went off without a hitch. Afterwards, Lincoln and Octavia got in the town car with Just Married written across the back window in curly cursive. The rest of the Renegades got in the party bus that was waiting to take them to the reception.

Once they were at the ballroom, before any of the rest of the wedding guests walked over from cocktail hour, the wedding party posed for the obligatory pictures.

As the best man and maid of honor, Bellamy stood behind Clarke and couldn't resist the opportunity to mercilessly poke at her side before the camera flash went off, ruining her smile. This went on for a few takes before Clarke swatted his hand away and demanded to change places, calling him an immature ass.

By the time they finished pictures, the reception was in full swing. The wedding party entered first, and then the DJ announced "for the first time as husband and wife, Lincoln and Octavia!" The crowd cheered.

After a little while of pleasant mingling with wedding guests, the dinner buffet opened and everyone hurried to fill their plates. For awhile, the only noises in the ballroom where forks and knives clanking. Then, after a pointed look from his sister, Bellamy knew it was time for speeches.

He stood up and tapped his knife against his champagne flute with a deep breath. Everyone quieted down within a minute, and all eyes were on him. He introduced himself as the best man and brother of the bride, and then got down to his speech, holding the microphone in one hand and grasping the notecards in his pocket with the other, just in case. "I remember when Lincoln asked me to be my best man. He was so nervous about it. Very formal. Just as formal as when he asked me for my blessing to propose to O. But you'd think once I approved that, he'd relax a bit. Nope, he was very by the book about it. 'Bellamy, I was hoping you would do me the honor of being my best man,'" he said, in a completely over-exaggerated and highly inaccurate impression of the groom. It got a laugh from the crowd. "Of course, I said yes. And we celebrated by cracking open a few beers." Bellamy made eye contact with Lincoln and they shared a smile; he knew Lincoln knew where the story was headed. "After two or three I finally felt just tipsy enough to ask him 'why me?' I was like 'man, I'm thrilled, of course, I'm just a little surprised you picked me.' And he laughed and basically told me that our little group of friends took over his whole life and stole him away from his old friends-,"

"Not in so many words," Lincoln interjected, drawing another laugh out of the small crowd.

Bellamy laughed. "He said it far more diplomatically. And then he said it would make Octavia happy." He looked at his sister then, with that soft expression reserved only for her. "He said, and I do quote, this time: 'we both know this day is about her.'"

Octavia pretended to look offended, shoving Lincoln lightly. The crowd ate it up.

"He said 'she can't wait for the wedding.' And I asked him 'well what about you?'"

To his horror, Bellamy felt himself getting choked up. He took a beat to sip his champagne and the audience's attention didn't waver.

"And I'll never forget his answer: 'I can't wait for the marriage.'"

There was a collective "aww" from the audience. Bellamy took another swig of champagne and watched Octavia's tears spill over, her smile so big it looked painful. Everyone clapped when she leaned over to kiss her new husband.

When it became quiet again, Bellamy turned all his attention on Octavia as he finished his short speech. "That was the moment I knew. I know, I had already told him he could ask you to marry him, but mostly I agreed to that because I knew you'd kick my ass if you ever found out I said no." This time, he didn't even hear the laughter from the audience, he was too focused on his little sister. "It wasn't until that moment that I realized not only how lucky I was to be getting such a wonderful brother-in-law, but how truly lucky you two were to find one another. Octavia, I always thought no man would be good enough for you. But - and this never happens - I was wrong. Lincoln is a good man. It was my honor to give you away to someone who I know makes you truly happy. I'm so proud of you, baby sister." With some effort to look away from the stunning bride, Bellamy turned his gaze to the man sitting next to her. "And Lincoln, I'm honored to be standing here as your best man. I know how much you love Octavia, and how you will always look out for her. As Octavia knows, I used to always say 'my sister, my responsibility.' Well, Lincoln, I could not have asked O to choose a better man to help me shoulder some of that responsibility. Welcome to the family, brother."

There were more stories he could tell, about their horrible first meeting when Lincoln's tongue had been down Octavia's throat, about the hilarious escapades from his bachelor party a week prior. But he had said what he wanted to say, so he raised his glass and said "to Lincoln and Octavia, cheers," and everyone followed suit.

Then, he turned the microphone over to Clarke, barely registering the applause. Octavia was looking at him with those watery brown eyes and Bellamy knew he wouldn't be able to get another word out if he wanted to. He nodded at her and mouthed an I love you, and she did the same.

With a slightly shaking hand, Bellamy downed the rest of his champagne and quickly wiped underneath his eyes. He felt a flood of relief that the speech-giving portion of the evening was over for him. In truth, he was a wonderful public speaker. He'd always been very persuasive and motivational. But he found he was best in impromptu settings, when he saw a need and rose to the occasion. Walking into an event knowing he would be speaking to a large group of people was nerve-wracking.

Clarke, however, looked right in her element. The microphone was steady in her grip. The rest of his nerves slowly left him as the champagne buzz set in, and he leaned back to listen to her maid of honor speech.

She spoke wonderfully. She wove stories together, leading the crowd from laughter to tears and back again with ease. Bellamy pointedly covered his ears with a joking grimace when she shared a racy story about Octavia from their college days. Clarke patted him on the shoulder when it was safe for him to listen again; everyone laughed, eating up their unrehearsed schtick.

Once Clarke sat back down, a cacophony of silverware clanging and various conversations rose in the ballroom. Jasper and Monty tossed french fries at each other; Bellamy caught Maya throw her boyfriend a withering look and he immediately stopped. Monty didn't get the memo, though, and his next fry hit Miller in the face. Monty's eyes went wide, but Miller laughed it off and flicked the offending fry back at the perpetrator. They smiled at one another, and Bellamy thought he saw a faint flush reaching up through Miller's collar.

After dinner, Octavia and Lincoln were called to the dance floor to cut the cake. Octavia smeared some on Lincoln's face, and took her time kissing it off.

Cake was served to the rest of the guests, where Clarke got her revenge from pictures by flicking icing from her fork onto Bellamy's face. "Who's the immature ass now?" He asked, and she shrugged innocently.

Next up on the wedding rituals was Lincoln and Octavia's first dance. Bellamy had to laugh a little; Lincoln was not a good dancer. But Octavia was the star. She floated around the dance floor like an angel. Bellamy could tell he wasn't the only one who had trouble keeping his eyes off her.

After a few obligatory moments of awing at the couple, everyone else began flooding the dance floor. The DJ picked up, switching from something melodious and romantic to much more danceable pop hits.

Before he knew what was happening, a shot glass filled with amber liquor was shoved into his hand by none of there than Clarke Griffin.

She had a matching shot glass, and tipped it towards his to cheers.

He tossed the shot of rum down his throat, watching out of the corner of his eye as Clarke did the same. Then, in an even less expected turn of events, she grabbed his glass, set them both on the table behind her, and dragged him out onto the dance floor. He followed her obligingly, but the minute they were in position he immediately took lead and spun her. She laughed, her short maid of honor dress twirling out beneath her. "You're in a good mood," he mused.

"It's Octavia's wedding, of course I am!"

But there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye that Bellamy couldn't ignore. "I don't think that's it, Princess."

Clarke smiled wickedly. "Fine. I'm assuming you, of all people, are into the whole 'it's a wedding, prey on the desperate singles' thing," Bellamy shrugged noncommittally, and Clarke continued. "Let's just say, you're not the only one who's trying to score tonight," she said, drawing closer to him as they danced so they were chest to chest.

"Confident Clarke, I like it," he mused, wondering how much champagne it had taken to get her there. "Who's the lucky target?"

Clarke didn't reply, she just smiled at him. Her silence left a weird feeling in his stomach; it made him think that maybe she was talking about him. An airy grin settled on Bellamy's lips as the song changed.

 _We were victims of the night,_  
_The chemical, physical, kryptonite_  
_Helpless to the bass and faded light_  
_Oh, we were bound to get together,_  
_Bound to get together._

As they danced, the light feeling that started with his grin had floated down to his stomach, making his heart beat slightly erratic. Bellamy's eyes flit back and forth between Clarke's, then down to her mouth.

 _She took my arm,_  
_I don't know how it happened._  
_We took the floor and she said,_

She was smiling widely and mouthing along to the words of the song. "Oh don't you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me," she sang, pointing to herself as she shimmied, acting out the lyrics in a way that Bellamy could only describe as adorable.

Bellamy moved his focus up from her lips to her eyes, which were smiling just as widely as her mouth, all crinkled at the edges.

 _I said, "You're holding back,"_  
_She said,_

Clarke raised her left arm above her head and trailed her right down it until it was laced through her blonde hair. Her eyes slipped shut and she set her left arm down on his shoulder. "Shut up and dance with me," she continued singing, catching her tongue between her teeth when the beat picked up. Her nails drew patterns on the back of his neck, creating goosebumps in their wake.

 _This woman is my destiny_  
_She said, "Oh, oh, oh,_  
_Shut up and dance with me."_

Then she opened her eyes and stared up into his though her lashes. Using the hand on the back of his neck, she pulled him closer so they were flush against each other. Bellamy's stomach dropped out, a nervous laugh escaping him.

 _A backless dress and some beat up sneaks,_  
_My discothèque, Juliet teenage dream._  
_I felt it in my chest as she looked at me._  
_I knew we were bound to be together,_  
_Bound to be together_

Clarke continued to sing along, moving her hips against his in time with the beat. She mussed up her hair with the hand that was on the back of her head. Then set the hand on top of her other one on the back of his neck, shaking her curls out wildly.

 _She took my arm,_  
_I don't know how it happened._  
_We took the floor and she said,_

Bellamy caught a whiff of her shampoo; it smelled tropical, coconut and pineapple. He swallowed heavily, staring at her messy hair with his lips parted slightly.

 _That's probably how it looks after sex._ The thought came to Bellamy unbidden, but he couldn't get it out of his head. She was moving against him and it was about to become problematic. The lyrics of the song and her nails on his neck made his little hairs stand on end, adding to this whole exhilarating albeit confusing moment the two of them seemed to be sharing.

" _Oh, don't you dare look back_  
_Just keep your eyes on me."_  
_I said, "You're holding back,"_  
_She said, "Shut up and dance with me!"_  
_This woman is my destiny_  
_She said, "Oh, oh, oh,_  
_Shut up and dance with me."_

His heart was now pumping wildly in his chest. This was unexpected.They hated each other. Then again, she was the maid of honor and he was the best man, it made sense. Not to mention, Bellamy was no longer so sure that they did hate each other, strictly speaking.

_Oh, come on girl!_

A plan formed in his mind. Perhaps one aided by the lyrics that were pounding in his head.

_Deep in her eyes, I think I see the future._

_I realize this is my last chance._

The song would end, and they'd be standing very close together, and he'd just... lean in. If she met him halfway then great; he could deal with the fallout of kissing Clarke later, right now all he knew was he wanted to. Bad. And if she didn't, then he could just play it off by whispering something snarky in her ear. "You're a terrible dancer," he would say, though it was the farthest thing from the truth. And she would sneer at him with some witty retort and he would blame his momentary bout of insanity on the alcohol or the fact that she was still a woman and the things she was doing with her hips on the dance floor would make any man consider planting one on her.

 _She took my arm,_  
_I don't know how it happened._  
_We took the floor and she said,_

 _"Oh, don't you dare look back_  
_Just keep your eyes on me."_  
_I said, "You're holding back,"_  
_She said, "Shut up and dance with me!"_  
_This woman is my destiny_  
_She said, "Oh, oh, oh,_  
_Shut up and dance!"_

The song was coming to an end and Bellamy was about to enact his plan. He looked from her hair to her lips and then, finally, at her eyes. He expected her to be looking up at him, as she had been throughout the song, with that wide eyed expression that told him she was truly enjoying herself. Instead, he found her staring at something behind him. Or someone.

With one last round of the chorus, the song ended. Even with a new song picking up, the moment had broken. And he watched as she looked, looked away, looked back. It was a telltale sign. The grin slipped off his face and his plan imploded; of course she didn't want him like that. It had been such an asinine thought, he couldn't believe it even passed through his head.

He followed her gaze to a beautiful brunette woman across the dance floor. She was staring back at Clarke with a smile Bellamy recognized, as he was just wearing it moments ago.

Bellamy looked back at Clarke, noticing the flush on her cheeks. His mouth dropped open. "Oh my god! You have the hots for that girl! She's your target!" Bellamy's eyes lit up in derisive delight. He may not be the one she wanted to bring him home, but, he had to admit, this unexpected turn of events was so much more exciting. At least, that's what he would tell himself, to bury and ignore the disappointment that she was no longer pressed against him.

"Shut up, Blake," Clarke warned as Bellamy watched the pink flush of her cheeks creep down her neck.

"You're totally giving her the come sex me eyes over the dance floor right now!"

Clarke tore her gaze away from the woman and zoned in on Bellamy, her lips pursed in a way Bellamy had come to recognize too well meant she was annoyed. "Ok, fine, yes, I have been known to enjoy the company of both men and women, and if you make one disgusting asshole comment about it I will slap that shit-eating grin right off your face."

Bellamy smirked "That's hot," he said, in his best impression of a frat-bro.

She didn't live up to her word, choosing to stick her tongue out rather than slap him.

Bellamy's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Wait a second, are you just using me to make the hot girl jealous? Pique her interest?" he asked. He knew that play, he had used it many a time himself. He told himself he didn't feel used. This was Clarke, he reminded himself, Clarke who he hated.

Clarke looked up at him, eyes blown wide as if she couldn't believe what he was accusing her of. Then, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and her expression turned downright guilty. "Maybe," she said, pulling herself closer to him again and wriggling her hips a bit.

Bellamy laughed, pointedly ignoring the part of him that quite enjoyed the feeling of Clarke pressed against him. He'd feel that way about any girl, after all. Probably. "Well then we better give her a good show," he said, dipping her and pulling her back up quickly.

They danced for a few more songs, and Bellamy made sure he set the pace (no more of that hip swiveling that would drive him mad no matter the girl). Clarke complained that she didn't like to be dipped, she was too afraid he was going to drop her, so he started making it a point to dip her lower and lower each time, until her blonde hair swept the floor. He never dropped her.

He spun her out again, but this time she didn't spin back in. Instead, no longer dancing, she walked towards him and leaned in slightly so she was at his ear, "Good luck with your conquest tonight, Blake," she said, just loud enough for him to hear over the music.

He laughed, "go get her, tiger."

"Very funny," she said, deadpan. Then smiled cheerfully, "Have fun striking out with the rest of the wedding guests!"

Bellamy shook his head, allowing her the last word. Instead of striking out with the rest of the wedding guests, however, he watched as Clarke approached the girl - Lexa, he remembered Lincoln mentioning she was one of the girls he went to graduate school with.

Clarke sat down next to Lexa and the two women began talking. Clarke threw her head back in laughter, and Bellamy recognized that look of pride on Lexa’s face; it was always nice making someone laugh so uninhibited. Especially someone so buttoned up like Clarke. Lexa didn't even know what an accomplishment it was, Bellamy thought, only slightly grudgingly. Still, he was smiling absently watching Clarke’s laughter, when suddenly a hand reached out of the throng to grab him by the elbow. Octavia. "Stop gawking at Clarke, let her do her thing," she commanded.

"You knew?"

Octavia smiled. "What? That Clarke was bi? Yea, it's not some big secret. I was the one who made sure Lexa got an invite! Clarke is just her type," She said, sounding proud of herself.

Feelings slightly akin to betrayal stirred in the pit of Bellamy's stomach. Absurd feelings that made no sense, because the only reason he would feel betrayed by Octavia would be if he was upset or jealous that Clarke was flirting with someone else. Which he was absolutely not. What a ludicrous idea.

"Come on, come dance with me," Octavia said, pulling him onto the center of the dance floor.

Bellamy risked one last glance at the blonde, but she seemed deep in conversation with Lexa. It was Octavia's day (hell, it was Octavia's whole world), so he acquiesced her request to dance.

When the siblings got to the center of the floor, Bellamy was slightly embarrassed to realize that everyone else and cleared off of it. He was too busy "gawking" at Clarke that he didn't process, until just then, the DJ announcing the brother/sister dance.

There were a handful of times in an orphan kid’s life where it becomes glaringly obvious that she does not have parent. This brother/sister dance was one of those times. Traditionally, this dance was better known as the father/daughter dance. Bellamy had forgotten about it. Walking her down the aisle was already hard enough; he refused to let this dance break his heart for her any further.

He tried to keep things light, twirling her a bit and laughing.

But then the music changed. Simon & Garfunkel started playing over the speakers. A lump instantly grew in Bellamy's throat. "Bridge Over Troubled Water,” he said, his voice dangerously close to breaking, “I used to sing this to you when you were little."

Octavia leaned her head against his chest. "I know," she said, "you sang it like a thousand times."

They swayed back and forth to the music. A tear slipped down his cheek. "I'm sorry mom's not here," he said, because it was the best he could do. He wanted to apologize that her father wasn't there, either, but the idea of a father was such a foreign one to both of them, he wouldn't even know how to begin.

"Me too," she said, sadly. "I love you, big brother."

"I love you, too, O."

And then, as if she had read his mind and heard his thoughts about what he couldn't apologize for, she added, "Thank you for giving me away. I wouldn't have wanted it to be anyone else."

Bellamy couldn't say anything else, too choked up. They fell into silence as the music continued.

"Hey, remember when I was a crazy rebellious teenager?"

He laughed, grateful Octavia had lightened the mood. "Remember when I was psychotically over-protective?" He countered.

Octavia moved her hands from around his neck to grip his upper arms firmly. "I am so glad," she began in a serious tone, and Bellamy mentally prepared himself for her to say something that would make him tear up again. But then she smirked slightly, "that those days are over," she finished, shaking him gently.

Bellamy nodded in agreement. The siblings had their ups and downs. The more Bellamy used to try to protect Octavia - control Octavia - the more she rebelled against him. Every time they talked, it would end in a fight. She said she hated him a handful of times.

He eased off the reins when she went off to college, and their relationship continued to grow stronger ever since.

Bellamy had never been more grateful than anything in his entire life than his relationship with his sister. He rarely felt lucky, but he knew he lucked out with her. And that was enough.

When their song ended, the DJ picked back up. The Blake siblings broke apart with a hug. Everyone else shuffled back onto the dance floor as Bellamy snuck off of it, headed for the bar. It finally seemed like the emotional portions of the evening were over, which meant it was time to drink and be merry.

Once the bartender handed him a beer, Bellamy leaned his back against the bar and looked out at the crowd. All of them were there to celebrate his little sister.

Bellamy watched Jasper and Wells do-si-do Maya and Harper. The girls laughed when they ended up with different dancing partners, and Wells spun Maya out in an elaborate display of formal dancing skills. Bellamy could only assume he learned that in some sort of fancy rich person etiquette class. He pictured a younger Wells and Clarke at a cotillion they were forced to attend by their parents and laughed at the realization that Princess Griffin was most definitely a debutant.

On the other side of the dance floor, Finn and Raven were dancing together without touching. Bellamy recognized the back of Wick's head as he snaked through the crowd and walked up behind Raven. He hooked her elbow and spun her around to dance with him. Unlike with Finn, Wick and Raven were definitely touching.

Finn found a new dancing partner, Bellamy thought her name was Mel, a girl in Octavia's graduate program. He gave her a charming smile and Bellamy rolled his eyes; kid was slick, he'd give him that.

Miller and Monty were still sitting at the table, lounging back easily and chatting. Murphy was there, too, but didn't seem to be part of the conversation. He stared out onto the dance floor with his typical surly expression, but Bellamy glanced down and noticed his foot tapping against the floor to the beat of the music.

Just then, a girl Bellamy didn't know slid next to him at the bar. He smiled and leaned over to her. "See that guy over there?" He asked, subtly pointing to his cantankerous friend. "His date stood him up tonight," Bellamy said sympathetically. The girl looked at Murphy in a new light, her eyes growing wide with pity. "I think he's really down about it. But it's a wedding, he deserves to have some fun! Go make him dance with you?"

The girl began nodding, slowly at first, and then more decidedly as her resolve built. She threw Bellamy a sly look as she ordered two shots of jaeger from the bartender and Bellamy flashed her an approving grin.

He just wanted to fuck with Murphy, but this girl actually seemed like someone he could like. Bellamy the matchmaker. Who would've thought.

They shared a nod before she - shots in hand - began her mission.

"Thanks..." Bellamy said, trailing off at the end as he realized he didn't know her name.

"Emori," she supplied, and marched off in Murphy's direction. She didn't ask his back, and he liked that about her. Or, rather, he knew Murphy would like that about her.

He didn't watch the scene play out. Partly because if Murphy caught him watching, the gig would be up. But mostly because at that moment, Octavia took the microphone from the DJ and announced she was getting ready to throw the bouquet.

Girls rushed forward towards the stage. Bellamy dared a glance at Emori, and was happy to see she hadn't made a move to join the throng. She gave the frantic girls a weary look, not noticing the way Murphy looked at her, undeniably attracted to her lack of interest in the proceedings.

Harper and Maya grabbed Raven and Clarke, pulling them away from Wick and Lexa, respectively. Bellamy kept an eye on Lexa. After a beat, she got up to follow the rest of the girls, but hung towards the back of the group.

Then all eyes were on Octavia as she spun around to face away from the crowd. Shrieks and laughter broke out as the flowers flew through the air. The girls held their hands up greedily, but it was clearly aimed for one person in particular.

Harper caught the bouquet and held it victoriously above her head. Octavia turned back around, beaming, and the two shared a wink.

Leave it to Octavia to coordinate a meaningless wedding ritual.

Bellamy found Wells in the crowd, standing next to Finn who gave him a firm clap on the back. Wells nodded and gave an exaggerated shrug.

Less than an hour after the bouquet toss, the crowd started dwindling.

By midnight, the only people left were the Renegades.

Dead on their feet after an evening of dancing, the 14 each pulled a chair onto the dance floor and plopped down in the circle they created.

Finn and Wells each grabbed an armful of beer bottle and passed them around the circle. They all say and sipped their beers, chatting about the night, in high spirits. When most of their bottles were empty, Octavia stifled a yawn with the back of her hand.

"Well," Lincoln announced, patting his new bride on the knee. She looked up at him lovingly. "We have a flight to catch in the morning, so what do you say, love?"

"We should hit it," Octavia agreed, peeling Lincoln's hand off her knee to interlace their fingers. Her eyes swept across the rest of the circle. "Thank you all," she said, her eyes going a bit watery, "this night was a dream come true."

Voices piled on top of each other in enthusiastic agreement. Bellamy heard Murphy's "it wasn't completely terrible," and laughed at the rare smile that was trying to escape.

Everyone stood up as both Octavia and Lincoln went around and hugged each of them. They saved Clarke and Bellamy for last. Lincoln shook his hand firmly and patted him on the back. Octavia and Clarke held on to each other for dear life before finally breaking apart. Then Lincoln hugged Clarke, pecking her on the cheek, and Octavia threw herself into her brother's arms. Bellamy grasped onto his baby sister tightly.

"Travel safe," he told her when they broke apart, holding her by the shoulders and looking at her sternly.

"You worry too much," she teased, poking him in the side.

He pulled her into one last hug and told her to call when they landed in St. Thomas.

Lincoln swept her up into his arms and carried her out of the ballroom bridal style. Octavia shrieked, suddenly weightless, and the group laughed. She looked back at them over her husband's shoulder and flashed a wide smile and a thumbs up.

Once they were gone, the rest of them sat back down. Jasper used the two now empty chairs to lay horizontally, his head rested on Maya's lap.

Murphy's phone beeped and he fished in his jacket pocket to pull it out. A moment later, he announced he had to go, with a recognizable glint in his eye.

"Get it, Murph," Jasper whooped. Murphy held out his middle finger towards him without looking at him as he strutted through the circle towards the exit.

"At least some of us are getting laid tonight," Raven said once he was gone.

Wick smirked, "Well, Rav, all you have to do is ask nicely."

She shoved him, daggers flying out of her eyes. He caught her hand when it connected with his arm and turned it over in his grasp to plant a kiss on her wrist, maintaining eye contact with her the whole time.

Bellamy could practically hear her breath catch in her throat. It was a true testament to how much they'd all had to drink that night when Raven said "oh fuck it" and launched herself at her coworker.

Everyone screamed in amused delight as Wick and Raven attacked each other with their mouths. Maya threw her hands over her eyes. Finn was smiling at all the laughter, but intently studying some spot on the ceiling. Miller initiated a slow clap, that Bellamy, Jasper, and Monty all joined in on.

They broke apart, breathing heavily. Wick was the first to turn his attention away; he bowed from the waist to the rest of the group. "Thank you, thank you. Entertainment tonight provided by Ark Engineering," he said, referencing the company the two worked at together, "and sponsored by good old fashion alcohol. Now, let's give it up for the true star, Raven Reyes, everybody!" He clapped in her direction and the rest of the Renegades joined in.

"You're a dick," she said, glaring at him.

The puff of her lips and flush on her cheeks told a different story, though.

The two of them ran off together shortly afterward, with quick mumbled goodbyes.

It was an even truer testament to how much they'd all had to drink that night when Miller - his leg bouncing on the ground like he was building up courage - suddenly stood up. "Yea," he said, "yea, fuck it." He crossed the circle and grabbed Monty by the arm to pull him out of his chair to press a kiss to his lips.

It wasn't a rushed, frustrated release of build-up, like Raven and Wick's had been. No, it was clear Miller and Monty had kissed before. Many times, Bellamy would guess, based on how comfortably they appeared to fall into it.

Bellamy's mouth dropped open. He wasn't the most observant person; hell, earlier that night, he spent the better part of three minutes thinking Clarke wanted to sleep with him, of all people, before he figured out the truth. And this came as a complete shock.

He wasn't the only one who was surprised. Jasper shot up so fast, the chairs he was laying on toppled backwards and he fell to the floor with a thud.

The commotion caused the two boys to break apart with a soft popping noise. They laughed sheepishly as Jasper scrambled to sit back up. "Yea, so," Miller said.

"This is happening," Monty finished.

Bellamy remembered a handful of isolated incidents that suddenly made much more sense. Earlier, with the French fry. And at work, where Miller had been working extra hard because "first of all, my dad's the chief," and when Bellamy prompted him for a second of all, he cryptically muttered "I don't know, just everything else."

He smiled, happy for his friends, and then noticed the remaining girls share a look.

Miller noticed, as well. "You knew, didn't you?"

Clarke grinned, guilty. "Raven let it slip at the bachelorette party."

Jasper looked affronted at Maya. "You knew and you didn't tell me?!"

"Hey, what happens at a bachelorette party stays at a bachelorette party," Harper said, coming to Maya's defense.

"I told you everything that happened at the bachelor party," Jasper moped.

Maya laughed, "Yes, you did, even when I begged you to please - for the love of god - stop."

Harper turned to Wells. "You didn't tell me everything everything about the bachelor party," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Do you really want me to?" Wells stared back at her evenly. She shook her head no immediately and Wells laughed. "Besides," Wells added, addressing the group, "does it really matter who knew what a week earlier than the rest of us?"

"Ay ay!" Finn agreed. "All that matters is you two are happy."

Monty and Miller shared a look that Bellamy was sure Murphy would pretend to gag at, had he still been there. "We are," Monty said decidedly.

It was then revealed that Monty had been sneaking out after Jasper went to bed to stay the night at Miller's, who lived alone. That gave Jasper a whole new reason to jokingly act put out, claiming he KNEW he wasn't imaging the sound of the door in the middle of the night, and he only ever half believed Monty's suggestion that it had been a ghost.

Monty and Miller were the next two to make their exit. Monty was clearly ecstatic about not having to sneak around, judging by the way he dragged Miller by the hand out the door.

Bellamy was enjoying himself, quieter than usual, just listening to his friends joke around and give each other shit. The circle continued to dwindle, and suddenly he realized Clarke was the only other person left.

He pulled himself up from the chair and wandered back over to the bar, debating as he walked whether he wanted to grab another beer or switch to water.

Clarke followed him and pulled herself up onto the bar, lightly kicking her legs back and forth. He decided on water, grabbing two bottles from the melting ice bucket next to him and offered one to Clarke. He sat down on one of the bar stools and turning his chin up to look at her. She grinned back down at him and accepted the water.

The silence was comfortable as they both chugged down their waters. Clarke’s leg was brushing almost imperceptibly against his, but if she noticed, she didn’t do anything about it. He didn’t care enough to scoot over; and he couldn’t say the feeling of the fabric around his legs lightly shifting against his skin each time she swayed her leg out wasn’t pleasant.

When his water was empty, he clicked the cap back in place and then tossed it towards the large garbage bin. He missed. Clarke laughed.

A few moments later, she made her shot, and glanced down at him triumphantly. He pulled a face at her, nudging her leg with his knee, as if he was daring her to try and gloat. Clarke’s blue eyes widened, her mouth pressing into a dubious line and her shoulder shrugging. Without realizing it, Bellamy was translating all these looks into a full conversation in his head.  
 “ _Oh whatever, lucky shot,”_ said the nudge of his leg.

“ _That was skill, not luck,_ ” her pursed lips replied. The shrug of her shoulder added, “ _not my fault you suck and I’m better than you_.”

“ _Keep telling yourself that, Princess,_ ” he said with a roll of his eyes instead of his words.

A couple more minutes of silence passed by easily, both of them lost in thought. Bellamy was already reminiscing about the night. His sister’s wedding. It did not seem possible. He was re-watching the highlights in his mind’s eye. Giving Octavia a hug and a kiss on the forehead when they finished walking down the aisle. Standing beside Lincoln and handing him the rings as he listened to their vows to love each other until the end of their days. Dancing with Clarke (he was too tired to overthink why that, of all things, made the highlight reel). Dancing with Octavia. Unintentionally finding Murphy a girl. The Monty/Miller reveal. General merriment with all of their friends. It had been a good night. One of the best.

Finally, he broke the silence. His replay of the night had him hung up on one unanswered question. It was really none of his business, but his curiosity got the best of him, as it was wont to do after a few drinks. "What happened with Lexa?" Bellamy asked.

"Oh, I don't know, I guess she left," Clarke shrugged. "It's fine, it's not like I was about to leave the party early. What about you - no one catch your eye?"

Bellamy's gut reaction was (his drunken gut reaction, he mentally amended) was to say that someone had, indeed, caught his eye and that someone was still brushing her leg back and forth against his. It was completely ridiculous, and he pushed it down as best as he could. Bellamy thought about how he had even planned on kissing her, before, and his embarrassment mounted. What a dumb idea. First, Clarke would obviously have never gone for it. Second, The only reason he wanted to was because she was a decently attractive woman and the liquor was making him feel loose. And third - for the love of god - it was Clarke, and she was basically his arch-enemy.

Instead of saying no, he shrugged, too, telling her, "I guess I didn't want to leave the party early, either."

Clarke nodded, stretching her arms up.

"And now look, we're the last two left," Bellamy said, swiveling on the bar stool so he was facing the empty dance floor.

"We're the champions," Clarke announced, holding her hand out in his line of sight for a high five.

Bellamy laughed, attempting to slap their palms together, which was made more difficult from the buzz and his growing exhaustion.

"You have to look at the elbows," Clarke told him, grabbing his shoulders to swivel him back to face her properly. "Like this," she narrowed her eyes at his elbow and brought their hands together. The clap echoed in the empty ballroom.

Bellamy shook his hand out, acting like she had hurt him, and the bit made Clarke laugh.

"You know you ditched me in the middle of a song," he said suddenly.

"Ugh." Clarke made a show of moaning and rolling her eye in jest, "I'm too sober to dance with you now."

"Wasn't an invitation, Princess. Just an observation."

Clarke quirked a skeptical eyebrow at him. "Sure," she said, drawing the word out to three syllables. She hopped down from the bar, grasping his bicep to stay steady on her heels. He expected her to say it was time to go home, but instead she grabbed a small green glass bottle from behind the bar. She shook the bottle of Jaeger in his face. "I dare you to take a shot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments on this fic so far, keep them coming, they are much appreciated! <3
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I definitely created Wells/Harper in my mind, but now I'm determined to make them a thing. Everyone get on board with shipping #warper!! lololol xD


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO EVERYONE. OK. I am so sorry this took me forever and a half. I haven't abandoned this story, I promise. There have been a lot of life things going on that are just meh, and because of that, I don't know when I'll be able to get the next chapter up. I wanted to post this one as soon as I finished it because you all have waited long enough. I'm going to do my absolute best to update as soon as possible, but I owed it to you to tell you up front that I can't promise that it will be a quick turn around. Please stick with me! I love all the comments and they do fuel me to write faster.

**Clarke**

In retrospect, finishing off the bottle of Jaeger with Bellamy at the very end of the night had been a mistake.

He was now snoring loudly against the crook of Clarke's neck. His breath fanned out across her neck, warming her - making her too warm. She kicked the blankets off her, careful not to wake him. The air rushing over her bare legs was relieving. Her head was pounding, and when she carefully blinked open her eyes, the room swayed around her. She set her foot on the cool hardwood floor, trying to stop the spins.

Suddenly, her concentration to breath without puking was interrupted by her door clicking open. Maya leaned her head in. "Hey, Clarke, I-" in mounting horror, Clarke watched Maya's eyes trail away from hers and to the form lying next to her. Maya grinned suggestively, "oh, sorry, I didn't realize you had company."

She was just about to turn around and leave, making Clarke thing that maybe she was in the clear, but Maya dared one last glance around at them, and her eyes popped in recognition.

Clarke grimaced.

"Oh my god!" Maya said in an urgent whisper, looking back and forth between Clarke and a sleeping Bellamy, before - cheeks burning bright red in apparent exhilaration at this discovery - she scurried out of Clarke's room.

Carefully as she could, Clarke extracted herself from Bellamy, and hurried after Maya. The movement made her stomach churn, but she powered through it. She needed to set the record straight before Maya had the chance to text the group.

The kitchen was an absolute disaster. Pans were stacked five high on the stove, congealed batter in a large mixing bowl lay discarded on the counter next to a stack of pancakes that were burnt to a black crisp. The syrup was carefully poured in an elaborate floral pattern across the kitchen table.

Maya turned to Clarke, looking horrified at the mess. Then, a silent question formed on he features as she noticed Clarke was still wearing her bridesmaid dress.

While explaining the Bellamy-in-her-bed situation took precedents over explaining the kitchen-disaster situation, the two stories were intrinsically connected, so Clarke decided to start at the beginning.

"After everyone else left, Bellamy and I kept drinking," she began. She could practically still smell the alcohol on her, and her head whooshed. She slipped her eyes shut and held onto the counter for support. The noise of water pouring from the tap sounded heavenly. Clarke opened her eyes to find Maya handing her a glass of water. She was careful to drink it down slowly. Nodding appreciatively at Maya, the stale taste in her mouth slipped away with each sip. "Suffice it to say," she groaned, "it was a very dumb idea."

Memories from the night before played in her head as she recounted the story to her roommate.

_"I dare you to take a shot!"_

_Bellamy grabbed the bottle from her and took a long pull._

_"Your turn, Princess."_

_Clarke savored the burn of the liquor as it slid down her throat. The buzz extended out to her fingertips and she swayed back and forth on the bar to the beat of the song stuck in her head. "We're still firmly riding the party train," Clarke declared, holding out the bottle above her head._

_Bellamy laughed._

_"Tip your head back," she ordered._

_He did as he was told and Clarke carefully poured some of the liquor into his mouth from above._

_Standing back up, Bellamy choked it down and wiped under his mouth. "Clearly," he agreed, smirking. "How are you not exhausted?"_

_"I could ask you the same thing," she said._

_Bellamy grabbed her wrists and pulled her down from the bar. She landed on his foot and he held her in place, spinning her around like she was weightless. It was dizzying, but Clarke laughed._

_"I guess I'm just not ready to give up this celebratory mood," he said, finally releasing her so she could stand steady. Well, as steadily as she could, having just taken another long pull of Jaeger._

_"Let's play a game," Clarke slurred, sitting down on the floor in the middle of the dance floor._

_Bellamy plopped down next to her and took the bottle from her grip, draining it down his throat. "What game?"_

_She snatched the bottle back and held it up to her lips like a microphone. "Bellamy Blake. Truth or truth?"_

_"Oh, that's a tough call. I guess I'll have to go with truth," he answered._

_Clarke set the bottle down on its side between them. She was feeling firmly drunk, in the best way. She was having a great time, glad that the night wasn't over quite yet, and feeling wholly comfortable around Bellamy in a way she rarely had before._

_Sometimes she thinks they bicker for their friends' benefits, like that's what's expected out of the two of them. Now that they were alone, Clarke wondered if the same precedent would hold. She was testing her theory that it wouldn't by really trying to get to know him._

_What better way to get to know someone who you've "known", surface level, for years than by a drunken game of truth._

_"How old were you when you lost your virginity?"_

_Bellamy cocked an eyebrow. "Seventeen. Your turn. When did you realize you were bisexual?"_

_"I've always kind of known, I don't know. I dated a girl back in high school. My parents thought we were just good friends," she said, laughing at the memory of nervously asking her mom if Anya could sleep over only to have her mom shrug, not understanding what the big deal was._

_Clarke spun the top of the bottle to face him. "Have you ever been in love?"_

_"No. Same question."_

_"Yes. Once."_

_"Finn?"_

_Clarke bit her lip. It was Finn, and she had her heart broken over it. And she didn't want to talk about it. "It's my turn to ask," she said instead, avoiding his question. "What's your biggest regret?"_

_Bellamy pondered this one for a moment. "Not looking for Octavia's dad harder. I thought I could handle her on my own. I could, as it turned out. But there were times when things were really hard. I think she could've used a father figure."_

_Clarke nodded, but she disagreed. Octavia talked to her about their situation, and she knew for a fact Tav loved Bellamy and appreciated everything he did for her. She didn't need her father, she had her brother, and that was more than enough for her. She wanted to tell him that he shouldn't regret that, but she bit her tongue. It felt too personal, like it wasn't her place._

_"What's your biggest accomplishment?" Bellamy asked Clarke, like he hadn't just divulged some deep seated insecurity. Maybe it was the alcohol. Nothing seems like that big of a deal when you're three sheets to the wind._

_"I don't know," Clarke answered honestly. If things had been different, maybe she would've said "getting into Harvard med." But that wasn't her path anymore. Now, she struggled to find one accomplishment she was proud of. "Not strangling you?" She joked._

_Clarke didn't give Bellamy a chance to not accept that as a truthful answer before she asked him, "Why were you such a dick to me on that date?"_

_It came out sounding more vulnerable than Clarke intended._

_"Truth?" Bellamy took a deep breath. "This doesn't get back to O, promise?"_

_Clarke nodded._

_"The truth is, I was seeing someone, back in Michigan before I moved. Echo. We were together for a few months and things were going really well, but when I found out Octavia was not moving home after school, I knew I needed to move here. Echo would have wanted to do the long distance relationship thing, but I knew it would be too hard on both of us. I wanted to leave knowing she would be fine without me. Better off, even. So I started pushing her away. I was a dick to her until the relationship ended and I left. It sucked. But last I heard, she has a great boyfriend now. She's happy. She wouldn't have been if she stayed with me, or if she thought there was a chance for us. But that's beside the point. Point is, I sort of spiraled from there. I was a jerk to her, I started sleeping around a lot, and that bled into my new life here in Boston. You kind of got caught in the crosshairs."_

_"I thought you said you've never been in love?"_

_"I haven't. But if I had more time with her... well, that doesn't matter now."_

_Clarke stared at Bellamy, perturbed. "Octavia wouldn't have wanted you to do that," she said._

_Bellamy glared at Clarke. "Soul-bearingly honest moment here, Princess, and all you do is judge me?"_

_Clarke buckled in for a fight. "I'm not judging you, Bellamy, I'm only saying..." she ran her hands through her hair, frustrated. "No, you know what, I am judging you! You threw away something that you just said could have been love. Octavia was fine here on her own!"_

_"Oh so you're saying I shouldn't have moved here at all!"_

_"Either that or you could have at least tried long distance! You owed it to her, and to yourself! But no, you got scared, you took the easy way out."_

_Bellamy growled. "There was nothing easy about what I did to her."_

_"Oh, that's right, easy came in when you were 'sleeping around a lot,'" she said, making air quotes._

_"You are a piece of work, you know that? I tell you I sacrificed my happiness for my sister and-,"_

_She sneered. "Oh, boo hoo, poor little martyr Bellamy."_

_"Fuck you," Bellamy spat._

_Something in Clarke broke. She tried as hard as she could to maintain her composure, but it was slipping like water through opened fingers. She started laughing. Full bodied, head thrown back, laughter. Because, as it turned out, they didn't just bicker for their friends' benefit. This was inexplicably amusing to Clarke, the way the two of them just could not, for the life of them, get along._

_Bellamy stared at her, incredulous. But her laughter was eventually contagious, and he started chucking, as well, clearly to his own chagrin._

_When the laughter died down, the two found each others' eyes. Clarke shook her head and rolled her eyes at herself. Bellamy shrugged. It was all pretty typical. And then, Clarke announced,"I want pancakes."_

Clarke left most of the details out. She didn't reveal anything he said to her during their game to Maya. He probably regretted telling her those things, it was the least she could do to ensure no one else found out about them. She didn't tell her about their fight, or how Clarke had regrets about picking it in the first place. The only part of the story that mattered for Maya was what happened after they shared a cab back to her place.

"I offered to make pancakes. We were drunk and it sounded good," Clarke told her, gesturing to the mess around the kitchen. "We were clearly too drunk to make pancakes, though."

Maya made a noise, somewhere between a laugh and a huff. Clarke heard the "yea, no shit" loud and clear.

"He whined because he was too long for the couch, and I was too drunkenly stubborn to sleep there myself. So we both passed out in my bed." Clarke stared at Maya, needing her to believe this was the truth. Because, in all honesty, it was. "Nothing happened."

Whether Maya believed her or not was still up in the air when the man in question emerged from Clarke's room. He looked just as terrible as Clarke felt, all disheveled hair and slouched shoulders.

Bellamy's gaze moved from Clarke (a look of confusion) to Maya (a look of embarrassment) to the mess in the kitchen (a look of pure disgust). He pointed to the mess, as if the girls hadn't noticed it. "What happened here?" He asked, his voice rough with sleep.

Clarke pursed her lips, wondering if he really didn't remember or if he was just trying to break some of the awkward tension that was building up. "We happened here," she said, assuming the latter and trying to help him with the cause, "no more drunk pancakes for us, deal?"

Guilt ghosted over Bellamy's features, and suddenly Clarke wasn't so sure whether he was only pretending not to remember.

He offered to help her clean it up, but she waved him away. "You're breath smells like rubbing alcohol," she told him, nose wrinkled up in disgust. "Go home, shower."

"Yours doesn't exactly smell minty fresh, Princess," was his retort. But he dragged himself over to the front door, anyways.

Bellamy paused in the door frame. Clarke looked over at him, confused as to why he wasn't leaving. He met her gaze, eyes perking up urgently.

Maya very conspicuously began washing dishes. He glanced at the brunette, then back at Clarke, and mouthed "need to talk."

Clarke knew Maya didn't believe her when she said she was going downstairs to check the mail, but she followed Bellamy outside their apartment anyways.

"What?" Clarke asked in a voice hardly above a whisper, when the door shut behind them.

Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, about last night, I just wanted to make sure you're ok..."

Clarke stared at him expectantly as he trailed off. If he thought she was going to supply the rest of wherever the hell that was going, he had another thing coming. The blonde was thoroughly confused.

Huffing, Bellamy continued. "It's just, I know we were both really drunk, it probably wasn't the best idea for us to..."

Again, Bellamy trailed off, as if he thought Clarke knew what he was trying to get at.

"For us to what? Drink that jaeger?" Clarke asked, then added, "You're telling me, I can't remember the last time I was this hungover."

Bellamy looked at her as if she was a child who didn't understand the rules of the game he was explaining. The perfect mixture of annoyance, pity, and condescension. It left a more bitter taste in her mouth than the morning-after alcohol breath.

"For us to sleep together," he finished, pulling his hand from his neck and holding it out as if to say "duh."

Clarke's face went completely blank for a second. Her brain was working slowly that morning, it took her a moment to process his words.

When she did, she burst out laughing.

"We didn't sleep together!" Clarke said. "I mean, we _slept_ together, but we didn't have sex, you idiot!"

When she finally stopped laughing, it was with a terrible spin of her head. Cracking up while desperately hungover was, apparently, not a good combination. It took a lot out of her. She leaned against the wall for support as the spins subsided.

"You really don't remember?" She asked Bellamy, who had been very quiet through the whole ordeal.

He was typing out a text on his phone, fingers flying across the screen.

Clarke's eyes widened.

"Oh my god. Oh my god! Bellamy Blake! Who did you tell?"

As best as she could in her state, she moved swiftly to snatch the phone out of his grip. Normally this feat would have been impossible, but he was just as sluggish as her, and she got the jump on him.

She was able to read some of the conversation between him, Miller, and Murphy, as well as his half written reply before he grabbed it back.

 _FINALLY - NM_  
_how was she? i bet she's dirty aF - JM_  
update: we did not fuck. i was black out. just passed out at her

Bellamy had the audacity to grin at her sheepishly. "At least I'm setting the record straight now," he said.

She punched him in the arm as hard as her weak hungover body could muster. Based on his sharp intake of breath and soft moan, Clarke guessed it had hurt. Good.

  
Since Murphy, Miller, and Maya all knew that Bellamy spent the night in Clarke's bed, it wasn't long before the rest of the group knew, as well. Finally, Clarke took to the group chat to set the record straight once and for all.

BB and I DID NOT have sex. we did not kiss. we did not touch inappropriately in any way. he was too belligerent to get out of my bed and i was too stubborn to sleep on the couch. end of story. - CG  
_why was he in your bed to begin with?! - JJ_  
any more mention of this and i am revoking finger paint fridays - CG

Thank god everyone loved the recent tradition of using Clarke's art supplies and canvases to drunkenly finger paint with. That was the last she heard about the incident. 

Still, Clarke was beginning to notice smirking glances shared behind her back whenever she and Bellamy interacted that wouldn't have existed had it not been for that night.

Fucking jaeger.

  
Two months after their wedding, Octavia and Lincoln announced they were expecting and she was due at the end of September.

Clarke was absolutely floored.

It hadn't been the plan, Octavia told them. They were going to wait until they were both out of school before trying to get pregnant. Now she would have to deal with pregnancy and thesis writing. Luckily, Lincoln was in the final stages of his dissertation, so he could be at her beck and call. At least they would both be done, with a masters and PhD, respectively, by the time their baby was born.

Clarke had to listen to a whole afternoon of Octavia trying to assure her brother that it happened after the wedding. They were in Clarke's apartment - which neither of them lived in, she noted in growing agitation. They were going around in circles about it. Clarke tried not to get involved. But once she heard Bellamy drop the phrase "my nephew the bastard," she couldn't bite her tongue any longer. She stormed out of her room and both of the Blake siblings looked up, as if they were surprised she was even home. "Honeymoon baby or baby conceived out of wedlock, does it really matter? It will be loved and cared for and - God willing - healthy and happy. So why don't you just get over it," she told him, her eyes narrowed into icy slits. She saw Octavia nod out of the corner of her eye.

Bellamy ran his hands through his hair, shaking his dark curls out in frustration. He didn't seem to have any good retort. Clarke crossed her arms in brazen victory. He flashed her a scowl before storming out of the apartment.

"He'll come around," Clarke told Octavia, "He's just surprised. We all are, but Bellamy sucks at handling surprises."

Octavia laughed, shrugging. "I know he will. He's being a dick, but it's just because he's overwhelmed."

"Just out of curiosity, you can be honest with me," Clarke began, her smile growing and her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, "was it a shotgun wedding?"

"Clarke! No!" Octavia exclaimed, shoving her arm. The girls dissolved into laughter.

  
Bellamy returned to Clarke's apartment an hour later, she ran into him as she was headed out the door to buy groceries. He was carrying a bouquet of flowers and wore a sheepish grin.

"Did you forget she doesn't live here anymore? She went home," she said, unforgiving.

Bellamy used his free hand to rub the back of his neck and mumbled something about thinking she might still be over and feeling like an asshole. Clarke stared at him evenly without replying. After a beat, he said he'd head over to her place, then, and started to walk away.

"Hey," Clarke called after him, her voice still cold and blunt. Bellamy turned to face her. "Those flowers are hideous. Just go for a simple 'congratulations, I'm happy for you' or 'I can't wait to be an uncle, I love you' or whatever."

Bellamy didn't say anything before turning back around, but Clarke watched him toss the bouquet in the garbage can as he walked back to his car. She smiled at his back.

 

By the time Octavia and Lincoln both graduated from their respective masters and doctoral programs, the drama between the Blake siblings was a distant memory.

The whole group turned up for their graduation. Miller and Bellamy in their police uniforms garnered some attention from ladies near them in the audience. Clarke watched Raven roll her eyes at the pair of them, laughing when Wick mistook his girlfriend's glance at the men and pulled her in closer to him. Monty nudged Miller, pointing out a girl who was clearly staring at him, and the two boys shared a knowing look at one another, blushing. Jasper and Wells were sitting one row behind, sandwiched between Maya and Harper. That left Clarke sitting next to Finn - looking more spruced up than she had seen in awhile (he had an interview later that day at a financial advising firm) - and Murphy, wearing blue jeans just dark enough to be considered dressy enough for the occasion.

Though Octavia's legal last name was still Blake, she clearly snuck to the back of the line up to sit by her husband throughout the ceremony. When it came time to walk the stage, however, Lincoln and his small group of PhD candidates graduated first. Clarke watched Octavia - with some effort to push herself up - stand when he received his diploma, hooting and hollering louder than any of the rest of them in the stands.

It was Bellamy who cheered the loudest for his sister when it was her turn.

Octavia was far enough along that the ornate black robes she donned just barely covered her growing baby bump. The word "waddle" came to mind to describe how she made her way to the Dean, and Clarke vowed to never voice the word, lest Octavia surely smite her where she stood. Still, she was absolutely glowing.

Besides Finn, who hurried off to his interview, everyone gathered at Lincoln and Octavia's house after the ceremony, and the couple wasted no time hanging their diplomas up, one next to another. Jasper hummed the pomp and circumstances graduation song, loudly enough to be heard over the hammering. Then, they drank. (Octavia was in a good mood, having just graduated, so she only moped about missing alcohol for a few minutes.)

  
The summer that slipped by was the fastest of Clarke's life. Things were easy going at the gallery, Octavia's penchant for complaining about her morning sickness had waned, and Finn actually landed his job, which meant he was in far brighter spirits. Any fighting between the Blakes, and even between Clarke and Bellamy, brushed over in a matter of hours. It was a good summer. The best summer.

She loved the fall. Autumn was her favorite season. But when she noticed the leaves begin to change, Clarke couldn't help but feel nostalgic for the months that just passed. She knew everything would be changing in September. Harper and Wells were going back to school. Surprisingly, Jasper was dropping real hints that a proposal to Maya wasn't too far off. But most importantly of all, Octavia and Lincoln would become parents.

 

It happened on September 10th, earlier than expected.

Lincoln came out of the delivery room, eyes shining. Clarke had never seen him cry before. "Girl," was all he could choke out.

Everyone burst into tears, hugging each other as if they had just accomplished the monumental task of bringing life into the world, as opposed to the woman in the delivery room.

Lincoln told Clarke and Bellamy they could come in. There were protests from the rest of the group, but Lincoln insisted they stay out in the waiting room. He didn't want to overwhelm the new mother or daughter.

The first person Clarke looked to was Octavia. She was smiling, healthy. And then, Clarke's eyes travelled down to the swaddled bundle in O's arms.

A baby. A real baby. Clarke laughed, the sound loudly mixing with her tears, in completely disbelief and euphoria. Their group was now one member more. The last time so many tears flowed was at Jake's funeral. That early September morning, the tears could not have felt more different. Happy. So happy it hurt. She was instantly in love with the bundle of pink blankets in her best friends arms. A love that felt so intense and it made her heart ache in her chest. Clarke reveled in the pain. She could paint for hours fueled by this painful happiness. 

The blonde was just envisioning covering the infants room with paintings of butterflies and portraits of chubby cheeks when Octavia spoke up through her own happy tears."Bell, Clarke," Octavia said, as Lincoln pushed them in closer to the hospital bed, "meet Aurora."

Bellamy choked out a sob. Clarke gave another watery laugh, nudging him with her elbow, giving him the go-ahead to hold her first.

"Can I?" He asked Octavia.

"Of course, big brother," she answered automatically, but seemed reluctant to actually hand the infant over.

Bellamy was twitching impatiently, eager to get his hands on his niece. "Come on, O! I've been holding babies since I was six, remember? And you turned out fine!"

Finally, Octavia handed Bellamy Aurora. He sat down on the rocking chair between the hospital beds, carefully supporting her head with the crook of his elbow. "Octavia," he whispered, sounding like all the breath had been stolen from him, "she's beautiful."

"She looks like mom," Octavia said.

Clarke leaned over Bellamy. The child was gorgeous. She never understood comparing a newborn's appearance to family members - they all pretty much looked the same - but there was no doubt that the child was gorgeous.

After a few moments, Clarke wanted her turn, but Bellamy was reluctant to hand Aurora over. Bellamy and Clarke started arguing; Clarke saw Lincoln and Octavia share a look.

"No fighting in front of Rory," Lincoln said, as if he was laying down a decree. It was fair; she had only been alive for a few moments, she didn't need to hear her "aunt" and uncle bickering quite yet.

Then, Clarke registered the nickname, and smiled. "Baby Rory," she cooed, leaning as close as possible to Bellamy without actually touching him. "Do you think your mean old uncle should give fun Aunt Clarke a turn with you? Yes you do!"

Bellamy pushed her away with his shoulder, pulling a face in her direction.

"I'm sorry, which one of you is the newborn?" Clarke asked, narrowing her gaze at the man.

Lincoln coughed and Clarke bit her tongue.

Before Clarke had a chance with Aurora, a nurse came in to check on her. Clarke hugged Octavia carefully, and then pulled Lincoln into a tight squeeze. Bellamy shook Lincoln's hand and then kissed his sister on the forehead. Then the two of them made their exit, leaving the new family with the nurse.

It was only very reluctantly, and with the promise that they'd see the new baby very soon, that the rest of the group left the hospital that day.

  
Aurora quickly became the most popular member of the Renegades.

It was no surprise that everyone absolutely adored her and her chubby little cheeks. It was no surprise that Lincoln and Octavia were naturals at parenting, understanding what her cries meant as if they were some Native American indigenous language all their own. It was no surprise that Bellamy loved being an uncle, and did his best to spoil her silly at any given opportunity.

The only surprise was who made Rory laugh the hardest.

Murphy tried to shrug like it was no big deal, but the entire group was consistently shocked at how great he was with the baby. Anything he said made her dissolve into peals of high-pitched laughter. He shot up to the top of Octavia's speed dial, being better than anyone at quieting her tears. He looked so pleased with himself, until he realized someone was watching him and then his face hardened.

"What? Babies love me, what of it?" And then his tough guy facade was ruined when he turn back to Aurora for another rousing round of peek-a-boo.

 

Aurora turned three-months just four days before Octavia and Lincoln were to celebrate their first anniversary. The group gathered for cake (that the infant couldn't eat and wouldn't remember). It was a nice evening. One of those nondescript gatherings where the details could have slipped away over time. But the details of this night would be forever etched in Clarke's memory. The details of the next four days would seared themselves in her mind. Because, though she didn't know it yet, those were the last days.

When she would look back on the days leading up to the last, she wished they were somehow more exciting. But they weren't. Things played out as they usually did. All of them attended the 3-month-birthday. And then going to work or school during the week. They met up with each other, the group varying in size depending on who was available. Octavia and Lincoln were always busy with the baby, but Clarke stopped by their house the day before their anniversary for an hour, forcing Octavia to have a glass of wine with her. The conversation had been normal and pleasant, mostly surrounding Rory, and how Octavia was excited to have a night out with her husband the next night, her first in months.

Clarke had work in the morning, and Octavia was exhausted, so they collectively decided not to open another bottle.

She would always look back on that moment and wish they had opened it, that they had spent just a little more time together.

 

On the 14th, It was a very typical day at the gallery. And then, suddenly, a familiar face walked through the doors. Clarke's breath caught in her throat. And it was no longer a very typical day at the gallery.

"Lexa," Clarke said, eyes wide in shock. She was just as gorgeous as she had been at the wedding. Even more, now that she wasn't looking uncomfortable all dolled up in a dress. She was wearing ripped boyfriend jeans and a loose v-neck, her arms covered in cool gold bangles and her hair pushed back to one side, showing off an ornate ear cuff.

"Clarke," Lexa greeted in return, looking just as surprised. "I haven't seen you since the wedding. I heard about Octavia and Lincoln having a baby, that's so exciting."

"Yea, it's amazing," Clarke gushed, resisting the urge to whip out her phone and show Lexa pictures of baby Rory. "How have you been?"

"Good, I'm good," Lexa nodded. She glanced around the gallery, then. "You work here?"

"Oh, uh, yea."

"I thought you said you were in the process of opening up your own gallery?"

Clarke crinkled her nose up; she did remember saying something along those lines at the wedding. "Yes, I, um, think the champagne may have led me to slightly exaggerate. Opening my own gallery is more of an 'ultimate goal' than it is a 'current possibility.'"

Lexa laughed easily.

"What are you doing here?" Clarke asked.

"The artist is my ex," the other woman answered with a shrug.

"You dated CeCe?" Clarke's eyes widened as two things occurred to her simultaneously. First, Lexa was suddenly so much cooler than she had been before, which is saying something, because Clarke already thought Lexa was very cool. But dating CeCe, an artist who's reclusiveness created a certain cache about her, added major points, in Clarke's eyes. Second, Lexa clearly had a thing for the artist type. At least, Clarke hoped.

"I usually called her Costia," Lexa said, "Costia Clayton. CC."

Costia Clayton. The name rolled around in Clarke's mind; some of the illusion surrounding the artist wore off knowing it.

"What happened between you two?" Clarke asked.

Lexa didn't reply, and Clarke's cheeks immediately grew hot. Too personal, she realized, shaking her head apologetically.

Clare was just about to say Lexa didn't have to tell her and it was absolutely none of her business, but Lexa cut her off before she could. "I seem to remember you telling me you'd show me some of your artwork."

With a hopeful lurch of her heart, Clarke forced herself to not dwell on her awkward faux pas. "I seem to remember you disappearing before we could make those plans," she countered, biting down on her lip.

"I left you my number on that napkin, I just figured you'd call."

Clarke scraped her lip between her teeth, pulling it out of her mouth, and furrowed her eyebrows. "You what?" And then she did remember a napkin. "Monty spilled my drink," she said quietly, almost to herself. "And I used the first napkin I could grab. I didn't realize..."

Lexa nodded, a grin lighting up her small features. "Well, if the offer still stands, perhaps I could give you my number now?"

"Yes. Yes, definitely," Clarke said, beaming back at her.

  
Clarke knew there were rules about waiting a few days before calling someone, but, to be fair, she basically waited a whole year. Now that she had Lexa's phone number in her possession, she intended to use it as soon as possible. Which is why, that night when she got home from the gallery, she poured herself a glass of wine and steeled herself to make the call.

Stretched out across her bed, Clarke dialed the number carefully. She triple checked to make sure it was correct before pressing her cell up to her ear.

The phone rang for awhile before eventually the generic voice mail message played. Clarke's heart thrummed in her chest, she hadn't thought through what she'd want to say in a voicemail. Do people even leave voicemails anymore? Was she going to seem totally lame?

Before she had the chance to decide whether or not she wanted to just hang up, the message beeped, and she was trapped.

"Oh, hey, Lexa. It's Clarke. We ran into each other today at the gallery?" Clarke grimaced to herself. Leaving voicemails was no one's strong suit. "I was just calling because I'd love to hang out sometime. I don't know if you just like to check out artwork done by CC or if you like art in general, if that's the case, there's this cool exhibit opening downtown this weekend..." her phone beeped in her ear, alerting her to another call coming in. "I could just text you the details or whatever," she said, suddenly rushed. "Um, I have to run, I'm getting a call on the other line. Ok. Bye!"

Clarke shook out her hair, embarrassed, before clicking over to the other line.

"Hello?" Clarke answered, a bit flustered at the message she'd just left for Lexa.

"Clarke, it's Miller." His voice sounded strained, but Clarke didn't think much of it.

"Oh, hey Miller, what's up? Why are you calling me? Aren't you at work?"

Strange background noise started coming through the phone. If Clarke didn't know any better, she almost thought it sounded like crying. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of it.

It took Miller a moment to reply, like he was choking over his words. A bad feeling suddenly washed over the blonde, and she sat up a bit straighter. "Miller," she said, "what's going on?"

"Um," Miller forced out, his voice broken. Clarke realized he sounded like he was crying, too. There was a bang in the background, like a chair being pushed over. Her stomach sank, unable to shake the growing feeling of dread.

Without yet knowing why, Clarke felt her eyes sting with tears. "Miller," she struggled, "Nathan, tell me what's happening."

"You - you need to come," Miller's voice was thick with emotion, making a chill pierce through Clarke. "You need to come to the station," he finally said.

Another bang. An anguished cry.

Clarke's heart was hammering in her chest, icy cold chills unyieldingly rolling over her, churning her stomach. "Why?" she whispered into the phone, her blood pulsing in her ears, darkening the edges of her vision, as infinite flashes of disaster ran through her mind.

Miller let out a choked sob. "There was an accident."

Clarke sucked in a breath, feeling a tear roll down her cheek. "Who? Is-is everyone ok?"

She already knew the answer.

"Just come to the station," Miller told her over another strangled cry from the background. "Just come to the station," he repeated, sniffing. His voice was barely audible. "It's Lincoln and Octavia."

The phone slipped out of Clarke's grasp. It clattered against the hardwood; Clarke didn't register the noise, the whooshing of blood in her ears drowning everything else out. Her mouth hung open but she was unable to draw a breath. She didn't need to hear anymore to know. She felt it in her gut.

No.

This could not be happening.

Her vision blurred in and out of focus. The world was crashing around her. Her stomach churned violently as she finally gasped in a breath. Her exhale was a scream, and she bit down on her palm, nearly drawing blood. Her body shook with sobs as she rocked herself back and forth.

Tears poured down her face as she blindly forced herself to her feet to move, to find her car keys.

But with another churn of her stomach, she ran to the toilet and fell to her knees, vomiting violently.

No.

This could not be happening.

Clarke realized the background crashes must have been Bellamy, and her heart shattered even more that she ever thought possible. It felt like she was being stabbed from the inside out with every beat of the shards of her heart.

She had to get to the police station. She had to get to him, to the rest of their friends. She called out to Raven and Maya, but she already knew neither of them were home; they would've heard her scream and come running if they were. She should call them. Maybe Miller was.

Too much to think about, but the anguish suffocated everything else.

Clarke's stomach lurched again. Her skin was slick with cold sweat.

Eventually the waves of nausea ebbed enough to focus on the task at hand. She had to get to the station. She had to find her keys.

Pulling her forehead off the toilet seat, Clarke wiped at her eyes. She tried to take a steadying breath, but it came out shallow and choppy. More tears filled her eyes and fell freely; she was helpless to stop the onslaught.

No.

This could not be happening.

She felt her insides churn, like they were struggling to escape, to break through her skin and tear her to pieces. She felt the overwhelming need to reject this, to refuse this was happening. She was tortured by her desire to force and shape reality into something else - something kind, something fair. But they were all bound to this reality, and helplessness flooded over her. She was drowning in grief. She was suffocating.

She gagged again, but nothing came up.

Her keys were hung up by the door. Once she was in her car, it took her a moment to stop her hands shaking enough to turn the ignition and control the wheel.

Before, Clarke thought nothing would hurt as much as losing her father.

And then she thought about the most important person in all of this; she thought of Aurora. The pain that struck her was so intense she had to pull the car over. Her entire body deflated, slumped over the wheel.

Thinking about Rory was the only thing that gave her the strength to continue driving through the heartache. She needed to see her goddaughter, to hold her, to cry into the her soft little head until the baby smell calmed her enough to breathe, to protect her from something she was years away from beginning to understand.

Clarke was wrong before. This hurt worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the sadness begins. You all knew it had to happen sooner or later. :(
> 
> And, like I said in the notes above, please bear with me and don't hate me too much, lovelies. I know it's a lot to ask you to wait for some indeterminate amount of time, but I'm working on it, I swear!


End file.
